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The Prince of Graustark

by George Barr McCutcheon · English · Gutenberg #6353 · 544,144 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Prince of Graustark

Author: George Barr McCutcheon


        
Release date: August 1, 2004 [eBook #6353]
                Most recently updated: April 11, 2013

Language: English

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Credits: Etext produced by Duncan Harrod, Juliet Sutherland, Charles
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        HTML file produced by David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK ***




Produced by Duncan Harrod, Juliet Sutherland, Charles
Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.











THE PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK

BY

GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON

Author of "Graustark", "Beverly of Graustark," etc.


With Illustrations by

A.I. KELLER



1914




CONTENTS


CHAPTER

    I MR. AND MRS. BLITHERS DISCUSS MATRIMONY

   II TWO COUNTRIES DISCUSS MARRIAGE

  III MR. BLITHERS GOES VISITING

   IV PROTECTING THE BLOOD

    V PRINCE ROBIN is ASKED TO STAND UP

   VI THE PRINCE AND MR. BLITHERS

  VII A LETTER FROM MAUD

 VIII ON BOARD THE JUPITER

   IX THE PRINCE MEETS MISS GUILE

    X AN HOUR ON DECK

   XI THE LIEUTENANT RECEIVES ORDERS

  XII THE LIEUTENANT REPORTS

 XIII THE RED LETTER B

  XIV THE CAT IS AWAY

   XV THE MICE IN A TRAP

  XVI THREE MESSAGES

 XVII THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

XVIII A WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT

  XIX "WHAT WILL MY PEOPLE DO"

   XX LOVE IN ABEYANCE

  XXI MR. BLITHERS ARRIVES IN GRAUSTARK

 XXII A VISIT TO THE CASTLE

XXIII PINGARI'S

  XIV JUST WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED




ILLUSTRATIONS

Her eyes were starry bright, her red lips were parted. _Frontispiece_

"You will be her choice," said the other, without the quiver of an
eye-lash.

"I shall pray for continuous rough weather."

The dignified Ministry of Graustark sat agape.




CHAPTER I

MR. AND MRS. BLITHERS DISCUSS MATRIMONY


"My dear," said Mr. Blithers, with decision, "you can't tell me."

"I know I can't," said his wife, quite as positively. She knew when she
could tell him a thing and when she couldn't.

It was quite impossible to impart information to Mr. Blithers when he
had the tips of two resolute fingers embedded in his ears. That
happened to be his customary and rather unfair method of conquering her
when an argument was going against him, not for want of logic on his
part, but because it was easier to express himself with his ears closed
than with them open. By this means he effectually shut out the voice of
opposition and had the discussion all to himself. Of course, it would
have been more convincing if he had been permitted to hear the sound of
his own eloquence; still, it was effective.

She was sure to go on talking for two or three minutes and then subside
in despair. A woman will not talk to a stone wall. Nor will she
wantonly allow an argument to die while there remains the slightest
chance of its survival. Given the same situation, a man would get up
and leave his wife sitting there with her fingers in her ears; and, as
he bolted from the room in high dudgeon, he would be mean enough to
call attention to her pig-headedness. In most cases, a woman is content
to listen to a silly argument rather than to leave the room just
because her husband elects to be childish about a perfectly simple
elucidation of the truth.

Mrs. Blithers had lived with Mr. Blithers, more or less, for
twenty-five years and she knew him like a book. He was a forceful
person who would have his own way, even though he had to put his
fingers in his ears to get it. At one period of their joint connubial
agreement, when he had succeeded in accumulating a pitiful hoard
amounting to but little more than ten millions of dollars, she
concluded to live abroad for the purpose of educating their daughter,
allowing him in the meantime to increase his fortune to something like
fifty millions without having to worry about household affairs. But she
had sojourned with him long enough, at odd times, to realise that, so
long as he lived, he would never run away from an argument--unless, by
some dreadful hook or crook, he should be so unfortunate as to be
deprived of the use of both hands. She found room to gloat, of course,
in the fact that he was obliged to stop up his ears in order to shut
out the incontrovertible.

Moreover, when he called her "my dear" instead of the customary Lou, it
was a sign of supreme obstinacy on his part and could not, by any
stretch of the imagination, be regarded as an indication of placid
affection. He always said "my dear" at the top of his voice and with a
great deal of irascibility.

Mr. William W. Blithers was a self-made man who had begun his career by
shouting lustily at a team of mules in a railway construction camp.
Other drivers had tried to improve on his vocabulary but even the mules
were able to appreciate the futility of such an ambition, and later on,
when he came to own two or three railroads, to say nothing of a few
mines and a steam yacht, his ability to drive men was even more
noteworthy than his power over the jackasses had been. But driving
mules and men was one thing, driving a wife another. What incentive has
a man, said he, when after he gets through bullying a creature that
very creature turns in and caresses him? No self-respecting mule ever
did such a thing as that, and no man would think of it except with
horror. There is absolutely no defence against a creature who will rub
your head with loving, gentle fingers after she has worked you up to
the point where you could kill her with pleasure--or at least so said
Mr. Blithers with rueful frequency.

Mr. and Mrs. Blithers had been discussing royalty. Up to the previous
week they had restricted themselves to the nobility, but as an event of
unexampled importance had transpired in the interim, they now felt that
it would be the rankest stupidity to consider any one short of a Prince
Royal in picking out a suitable husband--or, more properly speaking,
consort--for their only daughter, Maud Applegate Blithers, aged twenty.

Mrs. Blithers long ago had convinced her husband that no ordinary human
being of the male persuasion was worthy of their daughter's hand, and
had set her heart on having nothing meaner than a Duke on the family
roll,--(Blithers alluded to it for a while as the pay-roll)--, with the
choice lying between England and Italy. At first, Blithers, being an
honest soul, insisted that a good American gentleman was all that
anybody could ask for in the way of a son-in-law, and that when it came
to a grandchild it would be perfectly proper to christen him Duke--lots
of people did!--and that was about all that a title amounted to anyway.
She met this with the retort that Maud might marry a man named Jones,
and how would Duke Jones sound? He weakly suggested that they could
christen him Marmaduke and--but she reminded him of his oft-repeated
boast that there was nothing in the world too good for Maud and
instituted a pictorial campaign against his prejudices by painting in
the most alluring colours the picture of a ducal palace in which the
name of Jones would never be uttered except when employed in directing
the fifth footman or the third stable-boy--or perhaps a scullery
maid--to do this, that or the other thing at the behest of her Grace,
the daughter of William W. Blithers. This eventually worked on his
imagination to such an extent that he forgot his natural pride and
admitted that perhaps she was right.

But now, just as they were on the point of accepting, in lieu of a
Duke, an exceptionally promising Count, the aforesaid event conspired
to completely upset all of their plans--or notions, so to speak. It was
nothing less than the arrival in America of an eligible Prince of the
royal blood, a ruling Prince at that. As a matter of fact he had not
only arrived in America but upon the vast estate adjoining their own in
the Catskills.

Fortunately nothing definite had been arranged with the Count. Mrs.
Blithers now advised waiting a while before giving a definite answer to
his somewhat eager proposal, especially as he was reputed to have
sufficient means of his own to defend the chateau against any immediate
peril of profligacy. She counselled Mr. Blithers to notify him that he
deemed it wise to take the matter under advisement for a couple of
weeks at least, but not to commit himself to anything positively
negative.

Mr. Blithers said that he had never heard anything so beautifully
adroit as "positively negative," and directed his secretary to submit
to him without delay the draft of a tactful letter to the anxious
nobleman. They were agreed that a Prince was more to be desired than a
Count and, as long as they were actually about it, they might as well
aim high. Somewhat hazily Mr. Blithers had Inquired if it wouldn't be
worth while to consider a King, but his wife set him straight in short
order.

Peculiarly promising their hopes was the indisputable fact that the
Prince's mother had married an American, thereby establishing a
precedent behind which no constitutional obstacle could thrive, and had
lived very happily with the gentleman in spite of the critics.
Moreover, she had met him while sojourning on American soil, and that
was certainly an excellent augury for the success of the present
enterprise. What could be more fitting than that the son should follow
in the footsteps of an illustrious mother? If an American gentleman was
worthy of a princess, why not the other way about? Certainly Maud
Blithers was as full of attributes as any man in America.

It appears that the Prince, after leisurely crossing the continent on
his way around the world, had come to the Truxton Kings for a
long-promised and much-desired visit, the duration of which depended to
some extent on his own inclinations, and not a little on the outcome of
the war-talk that affected two great European nations--Russia and
Austria. Ever since the historic war between the Balkan allies and the
Turks, in 1912 and 1913, there had been mutterings, and now the
situation had come to be admittedly precarious. Mr. Blithers was in a
position to know that the little principality over which the young man
reigned was bound to be drawn into the cataclysm, not as a belligerent
or an ally, but in the matter of a loan that inconveniently expired
within the year and which would hardly be renewed by Russia with the
prospect of vast expenditures of war threatening her treasury. The loan
undoubtedly would be called and Graustark was not in a position to pay
out of her own slender resources, two years of famine having fallen
upon the people at a time when prosperity was most to be desired.

He was in touch with the great financial movements in all the world's
capitals, and he knew that retrenchment was the watchword. It would be
no easy matter for the little principality to negotiate a loan at this
particular time, nor was there even a slender chance that Russia would
be benevolently disposed toward her debtors, no matter how small their
obligations. They who owed would be called upon to pay, they who
petitioned would be turned away with scant courtesy. It was the private
opinion of Mr. Blithers that the young Prince and the trusted agents
who accompanied him on his journey, were in the United States solely
for the purpose of arranging a loan through sources that could only be
reached by personal appeal. But, naturally, Mr. Blithers couldn't
breathe this to a soul. Under the circumstances he couldn't even
breathe it to his wife who, he firmly believed, was soulless.

But all this is beside the question. The young Prince of Graustark was
enjoying American hospitality, and no matter what he owed to Russia,
America owed to him its most punctillious consideration. If Mr.
Blithers was to have anything to say about the matter, it would be for
the ear of the Prince alone and not for the busybodies.

The main point is that the Prince was now rusticating within what you
might call a stone's throw of the capacious and lordly country
residence of Mr. Blithers; moreover, he was an uncommonly attractive
chap, with a laugh that was so charged with heartiness that it didn't
seem possible that he could have a drop of royal blood in his vigorous
young body. And the perfectly ridiculous part of the whole situation
was that Mr. and Mrs. King lived in a modest, vine-covered little house
that could have been lost in the servants' quarters at Blitherwood.
Especially aggravating, too, was the attitude of the Kings. They were
really nobodies, so to speak, and yet they blithely called their royal
guest "Bobby" and allowed him to fetch and carry for their women-folk
quite as if he were an ordinary whipper-snapper up from the city to
spend the week-end.

The remark with which Mr. Blithers introduces this chapter was in
response to an oft-repeated declaration made by his wife in the shade
of the red, white and blue awning of the terrace overlooking, from its
despotic heights, the modest red roof of the King villa in the valley
below. Mrs. Blithers merely had stated--but over and over again--that
money couldn't buy everything in the world, referring directly to
social eminence and indirectly to their secret ambition to capture a
Prince of the royal blood for their daughter Maud. She had prefaced
this opinion, however, with the exceedingly irritating insinuation that
Mr. Blithers was not in his right mind when he proposed inviting the
Prince to spend a few weeks at Blitherwood, provided the young man
could cut short his visit in the home of Mr. and Mrs. King, who, he had
asseverated, were not in a position to entertain royalty as royalty was
in the habit of being entertained.

Long experience had taught Mr. Blithers to read the lip and eye
language with some degree of certainty, so by watching his wife's
indignant face closely he was able to tell when she was succumbing to
reason. He was a burly, domineering person who reasoned for every one
within range of his voice, and it was only when his wife became coldly
sarcastic that he closed his ears and boomed his opinions into her very
teeth, so to say, joyfully overwhelming her with facts which it were
futile for her to attempt to deny. He was aware, quite as much so as if
he had heard the words, that she was now saying:

"Well, there is absolutely no use arguing with you, Will. Have it your
way if it pleases you."

Eying her with some uneasiness, he cautiously inserted his thumbs in
the armholes of his brocaded waistcoat, and proclaimed:

"As I said before, Lou, there isn't a foreign nobleman, from the
Emperor down, who is above grabbing a few million dollars. They're all
hard up, and what do they gain by marrying ladies of noble birth if
said ladies are the daughters of noblemen who are as hard up as all the
rest of 'em? Besides, hasn't Maud been presented at Court? Didn't you
see to that? How about that pearl necklace I gave her when she was
presented? Wasn't it the talk of the season? There wasn't a Duke in
England who didn't figure the cost of that necklace to within a guinea
or two. No girl ever had better advertising than--"

"We were speaking of Prince Robin," remarked his wife, with a slight
shudder. Mrs. Blithers came of better stock than her husband. His
gaucheries frequently set her teeth on edge. She was born in Providence
and sometimes mentioned the occurrence when particularly desirous of
squelching him, not unkindly perhaps but by way of making him realise
that their daughter had good blood in her veins. Mr. Blithers had
heard, in a round-about way, that he first saw the light of day in
Jersey City, although after he became famous Newark claimed him. He did
not bother about the matter.

"Well, he's like all the rest of them," said he, after a moment of
indecision. Something told him that he really ought to refrain from
talking about the cost of things, even in the bosom of his family. He
had heard that only vulgarians speak of their possessions. "Now,
there's no reason in the world why we shouldn't consider his offer.
He--"

"Offer?" she cried, aghast. "He has made no offer, Will. He doesn't
even know that Maud is in existence. How can you say such a thing?"

"I was merely looking ahead, that's all. My motto is 'Look Ahead.' You
know it as well as I do. Where would I be to-day if I hadn't looked
ahead and seen what was going to happen before the other fellow had his
eyes open? Will you tell me that? Where, I say? What's more, where
would I be now if I hadn't looked ahead and seen what a marriage with
the daughter of Judge Morton would mean to me in the long run?" He felt
that he had uttered a very pretty and convincing compliment. "I never
made a bad bargain in my life, Lou, and it wasn't guess-work when I
married you. You, my dear old girl, you were the solid foundation on
which I--"

"I know," she said wearily; "you've said it a thousand times: 'The
foundation on which I built my temple of posterity'--yes, I know, Will.
But I am still unalterably opposed to making ourselves ridiculous in
the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. King."

"Ridiculous? I don't understand you."

"Well, you will after you think it over," she said quietly, and he
scowled in positive perplexity.

"Don't you think he'd be a good match for Maud?" he asked, after many
minutes. He felt that he had thought it over.

"Are you thinking of kidnapping him, Will?" she demanded.

"Certainly not! But all you've got to do is to say that he's the man
for Maud and I'll--I'll do the rest. That's the kind of a man I am,
Lou. You say you don't want Count What's-His-Name,--that is, you don't
want him as much as you did,--and you do say that it would be the
grandest thing in the world if Maud could be the Princess of
Grosstick--"

"Graustark, Will."

"That's what I said. Well, if you want her to be the Princess of
_THAT_, I'll see that she is, providing this fellow is a gentleman and
worthy of _her_. The only Prince I ever knew was a damned rascal, and
I'm going to be careful about this one. You remember that measly--"

"There is no question about Prince Robin," said she sharply.

"I suppose the only question is, how much will he want?"

"You mean--settlement?"

"Sure."

"Have you no romance in your soul, William Blithers?"

"I never believed in fairy stories," said he grimly. "And what's more,
I don't take any stock in cheap novels in which American heroes go
about marrying into royal families and all that sort of rot. It isn't
done, Lou. If you want to marry into a royal family you've got to put
up the coin."

"Prince Robin's mother, the poor Princess Yetive, married an American
for love, let me remind you."

"Umph! Where is this Groostock anyway?"

"'Somewhere east of the setting sun,'" she quoted. "You _must_ learn
how to pronounce it."

"I never was good at foreign languages. By the way, where is Maud this
afternoon?"

"Motoring."

He waited for additional information. It was not vouchsafed, so he
demanded somewhat fearfully:

"Who with?"

"Young Scoville."

He scowled. "He's a loafer, Lou. No good in the world. I don't like the
way you let--"

"He is of a very good family, my dear. I--"

"Is he--er--in love with her?"

"Certainly."

"Good Lord!"

"And why not? Isn't every one she meets in love with her?"

"I--I suppose so," he admitted sheepishly. His face brightened. "And
there's no reason why this Prince shouldn't fall heels over head, is
there? Well, there you are! That will make a difference in the
settlement, believe me--a difference of a couple of millions at least,
if--"

She arose abruptly. "You are positively disgusting, Will. Can't you
think of anything but--"

"Say, ain't that Maudie coming up the drive now? Sure it is! By
gracious, did you ever see anything to beat her? She's got 'em all beat
a mile when it comes to looks and style and--Oh, by the way," lowering
his voice to a hoarse, confidential whisper, "--I wouldn't say anything
to her about the marriage just yet if I were you. I want to look him
over first."




CHAPTER II

TWO COUNTRIES DISCUSS MARRIAGE


Prince Robin of Graustark was as good-looking a chap as one would see
in a week's journey. Little would one suspect him of being the
descendant of a long and distinguished line of princes, save for the
unmistakeable though indefinable something in his eye that exacted
rather than invited the homage of his fellow man. His laugh was a free
and merry one, his spirits as effervescent as wine, his manner blithe
and boyish; yet beneath all this fair and guileless exposition of
carelessness lay the sober integrity of caste. It looked out through
the steady, unswerving eyes, even when they twinkled with mirth; it met
the gaze of the world with a serene imperiousness that gave way before
no mortal influence; it told without boastfulness a story of centuries.
For he was the son of a princess royal, and the blood of ten score
rulers of men had come down to him as a heritage of strength.

His mother, the beautiful, gracious and lamented Yetive, set all royal
circles by the ears when she married the American, Lorry, back in the
nineties. A special act of the ministry had legalised this union and
the son of the American was not deprived of his right to succeed to the
throne which his forebears had occupied for centuries. From his mother
he had inherited the right of kings, from his father the spirit of
freedom; from his mother the power of majesty, from his father the
power to see beyond that majesty. When little more than a babe in arms
he was orphaned and the affairs of state fell upon the shoulders of
three loyal and devoted men who served as regents until he became of
age.

Wisely they served both him and the people through the years that
intervened between the death of the Princess and her consort and the
day when he reached his majority. That day was a glorious one in
Graustark. The people worshipped the little Prince when he was in
knickerbockers and played with toys; they saw him grow to manhood with
hearts that were full of hope and contentment; they made him their real
ruler with the same joyous spirit that had attended him in the days
when he sat in the great throne and "made believe" that he was one of
the mighty, despite the fact that his little legs barely reached to the
edge of the gold and silver seat,--and slept soundly through all the
befuddling sessions of the cabinet. He was seven when the great revolt
headed by Count Marlanx came so near to overthrowing the government,
and he behaved like the Prince that he was. It was during those
perilous times that he came to know the gallant Truxton King in whose
home he was now a happy guest. But before Truxton King he knew the
lovely girl who became the wife of that devoted adventurer, and who, to
him, was always to be "Aunt Loraine."

As a very small boy he had paid two visits to the homeland of his
father, but after the death of his parents his valuable little person
was guarded so jealously by his subjects that not once had he set foot
beyond the borders of Graustark, except on two widely separated
occasions of great pomp and ceremony at the courts of Vienna and St.
Petersburgh, and a secret journey to London when he was seventeen. (It
appears that he was determined to see a great football match.) On each
of these occasions he was attended by watchful members of the cabinet
and certain military units in the now far from insignificant standing
army. As a matter of fact, he witnessed the football match from the
ordinary stands, surrounded by thousands of unsuspecting Britons, but
carefully wedged in between two generals of his own army and flanked by
a minister of police, a minister of the treasury and a minister of war,
all of whom were excessively bored by the contest and more or less
appalled by his unregal enthusiasm. He had insisted on going to the
match incog, to enjoy it for all it was worth to the real
spectators--those who sit or stand where the compression is not unlike
that applied to a box of sardines.

The regency expired when he was twenty years of age, and he became
ruler in fact, of himself as well as of the half-million subjects who
had waited patiently for the great day that was to see him crowned and
glorified. Not one was there in that goodly half million who stood out
against him on that triumphant day; not one who possessed a sullen or
resentful heart. He was their Prince, and they loved him well. After
that wonderful coronation day he would never forget that he was a
Prince or that the hearts of a half million were to throb with love for
him so long as he was man as well as Prince.

Mr. Blithers was very close to the truth when he said (to himself, if
you remember) that the financial situation in the far-off principality
was not all that could be desired. It is true that Graustark was in
Russia's debt to the extent of some twenty million gavvos,--about
thirty millions of dollars, in other words,--and that the day of
reckoning was very near at hand. The loan was for a period of twelve
years, and had been arranged contrary to the advice of John Tullis, an
American financier who long had been interested in the welfare of the
principality through friendship for the lamented Prince Consort, Lorry.
He had been farsighted enough to realise that Russia would prove a hard
creditor, even though she may have been sincere in her protestations of
friendship for the modest borrower.

A stubborn element in the cabinet overcame his opposition, however, and
the debt was contracted, taxation increased by popular vote and a
period of governmental thriftiness inaugurated. Railroads, highways,
bridges and aqueducts were built, owned and controlled by the state,
and the city of Edelweiss rebuilt after the devastation created during
the revolt of Count Marlanx and his minions. There seemed to be some
prospect of vindication for the ministry and Tullis, who lived in
Edelweiss, was fair-minded enough to admit that their action appeared
to have been for the best. The people had prospered and taxes were paid
in full and without complaint. The reserve fund grew steadily and
surely and there was every prospect that when the huge debt came due it
would be paid in cash. But on the very crest of their prosperity came
adversity. For two years the crops failed and a pestilence swept
through the herds. The flood of gavvos that had been pouring into the
treasury dwindled into a pitiful rivulet; the little that came in was
applied, of necessity, to administration purposes and the maintenance
of the army, and there was not so much as a penny left over for the
so-called sinking fund.

A year of grace remained. The minister of finance had long since
recovered from the delusion that it would be easy to borrow from
England or France to pay the Russians, there being small prospect of a
renewal by the Czar even for a short period at a higher rate of
interest. The great nations of Europe made it plain to the little
principality that they would not put a finger in Russia's pie at this
stage of the game. Russia was ready to go to war with her great
neighbour, Austria. Diplomacy--caution, if you will,--made it
imperative that other nations should sit tight and look to their own
knitting, so to say. Not one could afford to be charged with
befriending, even in a round-about way, either of the angry grumblers.

It was only too well known in diplomatic circles that Russia coveted
the railroads of Graustark, as a means of throwing troops into a remote
and almost impregnable portion of Austria. If the debt were paid
promptly, it would be impossible, according to international law, for
the great White Bear to take over these roads and at least a portion of
the western border of the principality. Obviously, Austria would be
benefitted by the prompt lifting of the debt, but her own relations
with Russia were so strained that an offer to come to the rescue of
Graustark would be taken at once as an open affront and vigorously
resented. Her hands were tied.

The northern and western parts of Graustark were rich with productive
mines. The government had built railroads throughout these sections so
that the yield of coal and copper might be given an outlet to the world
at large. In making the loan, Russia had demanded these prosperous
sections as security for the vast sum advanced, and Graustark in an
evil hour had submitted, little suspecting the trick that Dame Nature
was to play in the end.

Private banking institutions in Europe refused to make loans under the
rather exasperating circumstances, preferring to take no chances. Money
was not cheap in these bitter days, neither in Europe nor America.
Caution was the watchword. A vast European war was not improbable,
despite the sincere efforts on the part of the various nations to keep
out of the controversy.

Nor was Mr. Blithers far from right in his shrewd surmise that Prince
Robin and his agents were not without hope in coming to America at this
particular time. Graustark had laid by barely half the amount required
to lift the debt to Russia. It was not beyond the bounds of reason to
expect her Prince to secure the remaining fifteen millions through
private sources in New York City.

Six weeks prior to his arrival in New York, the young Prince landed in
San Francisco. He had come by way of the Orient, accompanied by the
Chief of Staff of the Graustark Army, Count Quinnox,--hereditary
watch-dog to the royal family!--and a young lieutenant of the guard,
Boske Dank. Two men were they who would have given a thousand lives in
the service of their Prince. No less loyal was the body-servant who
looked after the personal wants of the eager young traveller, an
Englishman of the name of Hobbs. A very poor valet was he, but an
exceptionally capable person when it came to the checking of luggage
and the divining of railway time-tables. He had been an agent for
Cook's. It was quite impossible to miss a train that Hobbs suspected of
being the right one.

Prince Robin came unheralded and traversed the breadth of the continent
without attracting more than the attention that is bestowed upon
good-looking young men. Like his mother, nearly a quarter of a century
before, he travelled incognito. But where she had used the somewhat
emphatic name of Guggenslocker, he was known to the hotel registers as
"Mr. R. Schmidt and servant."

There was romance in the eager young soul of Prince Robin. He revelled
in the love story of his parents. The beautiful Princess Yetive first
saw Grenfell Lorry in an express train going eastward from Denver.
Their wonderful romance was born, so to speak, in a Pullman compartment
car, and it thrived so splendidly that it almost upset a dynasty, for
never--in all of nine centuries--had a ruler of Graustark stooped to
marriage with a commoner.

And so when the far-sighted ministry and House of Nobles in Graustark
set about to select a wife for their young ruler, they made overtures
to the Prince of Dawsbergen whose domain adjoined Graustark on the
south. The Crown Princess of Dawsbergen, then but fifteen, was the
unanimous choice of the amiable match-makers in secret conclave. This
was when Robin was seventeen and just over being fatuously in love with
his middle-aged instructress in French.

The Prince of Dawsbergen despatched an embassy of noblemen to assure
his neighbour that the match would be highly acceptable to him and that
in proper season the betrothal might be announced. But alack! both
courts overlooked the fact that there was independent American blood in
the two young people. Neither the Prince of Graustark nor the Crown
Princess of Dawsbergen,--whose mother was a Miss Beverly Calhoun of
Virginia,--was disposed to listen to the voice of expediency; in fact,
at a safe distance of three or four hundred miles, the youngsters
figuratively turned up their noses at each other and frankly confessed
that they hated each other and wouldn't be bullied into getting
married, no matter what _anybody_ said, or something of the sort.

"S'pose I'm going to say I'll marry a girl I've never seen?" demanded
seventeen-year-old Robin, full of wrath. "Not I, my lords. I'm going to
look about a bit, if you don't mind. The world is full of girls. I'll
marry the one I happen to want or I'll not marry at all."

"But, highness," they protested, "you must listen to reason. There must
be a successor to the throne of Graustark. You would not have the name
die with you. The young Princess is--"

"Is fifteen you say," he interrupted loftily. "Come around in ten years
and we'll talk it over again. But I'm not going to pledge myself to
marry a child in short frocks, name or no name. Is she pretty?"

The lords did not know. They had not seen the young lady.

"If she is pretty you'd be sure to know it, my lords, so we'll assume
she isn't. I saw her when she was three years old, and she certainly
was a fright when she cried, and, my lords, she cried all the time. No,
I'll not marry her. Be good enough to say to the Prince of Dawsbergen
that I'm very much obliged to him, but it's quite out of the question."

And the fifteen-year-old Crown Princess, four hundred miles away,
coolly informed her doting parents that she was tired of being a
Princess anyway and very much preferred marrying some one who lived in
a cottage. In fine, she stamped her little foot and said she'd jump
into the river before she'd marry the Prince of Graustark.

"But he's a very handsome, adorable boy," began her mother.

"And half-American just as you are, my child," put in her father
encouragingly. "Nothing could be more suitable than--"

"I don't intend to marry anybody until I'm thirty at least, so that
ends it, daddy,--I mean, your poor old highness."

"Naturally we do not expect you to be married before you are out of
short frocks, my dear," said Prince Dantan stiffly. "But a betrothal is
quite another thing. It is customary to arrange these marriages years
before--"

"Is Prince Robin in love with me?"

"I--ahem!--that's a very silly question. He hasn't seen you since you
were a baby. But he _will_ be in love with you, never fear."

"He may be in love with some one else, for all we know, so where do I
come in?"

"Come in?" gasped her father.

"She's part American, dear," explained the mother, with her prettiest
smile.

"Besides," said the Crown Princess, with finality, "I'm not even going
to be engaged to a man I've never seen. And if you insist, I'll run
away as sure as anything."

And so the matter rested. Five years have passed since the initial
overtures were made by the two courts, and although several sly
attempts were made to bring the young people to a proper understanding
of their case, they aroused nothing more than scornful laughter on the
part of the belligerents, as the venerable Baron Dangloss was wont to
call them, not without pride in his sharp old voice.

"It all comes from mixing the blood," said the Prime Minister gloomily.

"Or improving it," said the Baron, and was frowned upon.

And no one saw the portentous shadow cast by the slim daughter of
William W. Blithers, for the simple reason that neither Graustark nor
Dawsbergen knew that it existed. They lived in serene ignorance of the
fact that God, while he was about it, put Maud Applegate Blithers into
the world on precisely the same day that the Crown Princess of
Dawsbergen first saw the light of day.

On the twenty-second anniversary of his birth, Prince Robin fared forth
in quest of love and romance, not without hope of adventure, for he was
a valorous chap with the heritage of warriors in his veins. Said he to
himself in dreamy contemplation of the long journey ahead of him: "I
will traverse the great highways that my mother trod and I will look
for the Golden Girl sitting by the wayside. She must be there, and
though it is a wide world, I am young and my eyes are sharp. I will
find her sitting at the roadside eager for me to come, not housed in a
gloomy; castle surrounded by the spooks of a hundred ancestors. They
who live in castles wed to hate and they who wed at the roadside live
to love. Fortune attend me! If love lies at the roadside waiting, do
not let me pass it by. All the princesses are not inside the castles.
Some sit outside the gates and laugh with glee, for love is their
companion. So away I go, la, la! looking for the princess with the
happy heart and the smiling lips! It is a wide world but my eyes are
sharp. I shall find my princess."

But, alas, for his fine young dream, he found no Golden Girl at the
roadside nor anything that suggested romance. There were happy hearts
and smiling lips--and all for him, it would appear--but he passed them
by, for his eyes were _sharp_ and his wits awake. And so, at last, he
came to Gotham, his heart as free as the air he breathed, confessing
that his quest had been in vain. History failed to repeat itself. His
mother's romance would stand alone and shine without a flicker to the
end of time. There could be no counterpart.

"Well, I had the fun of looking," he philosophised (to himself, for no
man knew of his secret project) and grinned with a sort of amused
tolerance for the sentimental side of his nature. "I'm a silly ass to
have even dreamed of finding her as I passed along, and if I had found
her what the deuce could I have done about it anyway? This isn't the
day for mediaeval lady-snatching. I dare say I'm just as well off for
not having found her. I still have the zest for hunting farther, and
there's a lot in that." Then aloud: "Hobbs, are we on time?"

"We are, sir," said Hobbs, without even glancing at his watch. The
train was passing 125th Street. "To the minute, sir. We will be in in
ten minutes, if nothing happens. Mr. King will be at the station to
meet you, sir. Any orders, sir?"

"Yes, pinch me, Hobbs."

"Pinch your Highness?" in amazement. "My word, sir, wot--"

"I just want to be sure that the dream is over, Hobbs. Never mind. You
needn't pinch me. I'm awake," and to prove it he stretched his fine
young body in the ecstasy of realisation.

That night he slept soundly in the Catskills.




CHAPTER III

MR. BLITHERS GOES VISITING


I repeat: Prince Robin was as handsome a chap as you'll see in a week's
journey. He was just under six feet, slender, erect and strong in the
way that a fine blade is strong. His hair was dark and straight, his
eyes blue-black, his cheek brown and ruddy with the health of a life
well-ordered. Nose, mouth and chin were clean-cut and indicative of
power, while his brow was broad and smooth, with a surface so serene
that it might have belonged to a woman. At first glance you would have
taken him for a healthy, eager American athlete, just out of college,
but that aforementioned seriousness in his deep-set, thoughtful eyes
would have caused you to think twice before pronouncing him a
fledgling. He had enjoyed life, he had made the most of his play-days,
but always there had hung over his young head the shadow of the cross
that would have to be supported to the end of his reign, through thick
and thin, through joy and sorrow, through peace and strife.

He saw the shadow when he was little more than a baby; it was like a
figure striding beside him always; it never left him. He could not be
like other boys, for he was a prince, and it was a serious business
being a prince! A thousand times, as a lad, he had wished that he could
have a few "weeks off" from being what he was and be just a common,
ordinary, harum scarum boy, like the "kids" of Petrove, the head
stableman. He would even have put up with the thrashings they got from
their father, just for the sake of enjoying the mischief that purchased
the punishment. But alas! no one would ever dream of giving him the
lovely "tannings" that other boys got when they were naughty. Such joys
were not for him; he was mildly reproved and that was all. But his
valiant spirit found release in many a glorious though secret encounter
with boys both large and small, and not infrequently he sustained
severe pummelings at the hands of plebeians who never were quite sure
that they wouldn't be beheaded for obliging him in the matter of a
"scrap," but who fought like little wild-cats while they were about it.
They were always fair fights, for he fought as a boy and not as a
prince. He took his lickings like a prince, however, and his victories
like a boy. The one thing he wanted to do above all others was to play
foot-ball. But they taught him fencing, riding, shooting and tennis
instead, for, said they, foot-ball is only to be looked-at, not
played,--fine argument, said Robin!

Be that as it may, he was physically intact and bodily perfect. He had
no broken nose, smashed ribs, stiff shoulder joints or weak ankles, nor
was he toothless. In all his ambitious young life he had never achieved
anything more enduring than a bloody nose, a cracked lip or a purple
eye, and he had been compelled to struggle pretty hard for even those
blessings. And to him the pity of it all was that he was as hard as
nails and as strong as a bullock--a sad waste, if one were to believe
him in his bitter lamentations.

Toward the end of his first week at Red Roof, the summer home of the
Truxton Kings, he might have been found on the broad lawn late one
afternoon, playing tennis with his hostess, the lovely and vivacious
"Aunt Loraine." To him, Mrs. King would always be "Aunt Loraine," even
as he would never be anything but Bobby to her.

She was several years under forty and as light and active as a young
girl. Her smooth cheek glowed with the happiness and thrill of the
sport, and he was hard put to hold his own against her, even though she
insisted that he play his level best.

Truxton King, stalwart and lazy, lounged on the turf, umpiring the
game, attended by two pretty young girls, a lieutenant in flannels and
the ceremonious Count Quinnox, iron grey and gaunt-faced battleman with
the sabre scars on his cheek and the bullet wound in his side.

"Good work, Rainie," shouted the umpire as his wife safely placed the
ball far out of her opponent's reach.

"Hi!" shouted Robin, turning on him with a scowl. "You're not supposed
to cheer anybody, d' you understand? You're only an umpire."

"Outburst of excitement, Kid," apologised the umpire complacently.
"Couldn't help it. Forty thirty. Get busy."

"He called him 'kid,'" whispered one of the young girls to the other.

"Well I heard the Prince call Mr. King 'Truck' a little while ago,"
whispered the other.

"Isn't he good-looking?" sighed the first one.

They were sisters, very young, and lived in the cottage across the road
with their widowed mother. Their existence was quite unknown to Mr. and
Mrs. Blithers, although the amiable Maud was rather nice to them. She
had once picked them up in her automobile when she encountered them
walking to the station. After that she called them by their Christian
names and generously asked them to call her Maud. It might appear from
this that Maud suffered somewhat from loneliness in the great house on
the hill. The Felton girls had known Robin a scant three-quarters of an
hour and were deeply in love with him. Fannie was eighteen and Nellie
but little more than sixteen. He was their first Prince.

"Whee-ee!" shrilled Mrs. King, going madly after a return that her
opponent had lobbed over the net. She missed.

"Deuce," said her husband laconically. A servant was crossing the lawn
with a tray of iced drinks. As he neared the recumbent group he paused
irresolutely and allowed his gaze to shift toward the road below. Then
he came on and as he drew alongside the interested umpire he leaned
over and spoke in a low tone of voice.

"What?" demanded King, squinting.

"Just coming in the gate, sir," said the footman.

King shot a glance over his shoulder and then sat up in astonishment.

"Good Lord! Blithers! What the deuce can he be doing here? I say,
Loraine! Hi!"

"Vantage in," cried his pretty wife, dashing a stray lock from her eyes.

Mr. King's astonishment was genuine. It might better have been
pronounced bewilderment. Mr. Blithers was paying his first visit to Red
Roof. Up to this minute it is doubtful if he ever had accorded it so
much as a glance of interest in passing. He bowed to King occasionally
at the station, but that was all.

But now his manner was exceedingly friendly as he advanced upon the
group. One might have been pardoned for believing him to be a most
intimate friend of the family and given to constantly dropping in at
any and all hours of the day.

The game was promptly interrupted. It would not be far from wrong to
say that Mrs. King's pretty mouth was open not entirely as an aid to
breathing. She couldn't believe her eyes as she slowly abandoned her
court and came forward to meet their advancing visitor.

"Take my racket, dear," she said to one of the Peltons, It happened to
be Fannie and the poor child almost fainted with joy.

The Prince remained in the far court, idly twirling his racket.

"Afternoon, King," said Mr. Blithers, doffing his panama--to fan a
heated brow. "Been watching the game from the road for a spell. Out for
a stroll. Couldn't resist running in for a minute. You play a beautiful
game, Mrs. King. How do you do! Pretty hot work though, isn't it?"

He was shaking hands with King and smiling genially upon the trim,
panting figure of the Prince's adversary.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blithers," said King, still staring. "You--you
know my wife?"

Mr. Blithers ignored what might have been regarded as an introduction,
and blandly announced that tennis wasn't a game for fat people, patting
his somewhat aggressive extension in mock dolefulness as he spoke.

"You should see my daughter play," he went on, scarcely heeding Mrs.
King's tactless remark that she affected the game because she had a
horror of getting fat. "Corking, she is, and as quick as a cat. Got a
medal at Lakewood last spring. I'll fix up a match soon, Mrs. King,
between you and Maud. Ought to be worth going miles to see, eh, King?"

"Oh, I am afraid, Mr. Blithers, that I am not in your daughter's
class," said Loraine King, much too innocently.

"We've got a pretty fair tennis court up at Blitherwood," said Mr.
Blithers calmly. "I have a professional instructor up every week to
play with Maud. She can trim most of the amateurs so--"

"May I offer you a drink of some kind, Mr. Blithers?" asked King,
recovering his poise to some extent. "We are having lemonades, but
perhaps you'd prefer something--"

"Lemonade will do for me, thanks," said the visitor affably. "We ought
to run in on each other a little more often than--thanks! By jove, it
looks refreshing. Your health, Mrs. King. Too bad to drink a lady's
health in lemonade but--the sentiment's the same."

He was looking over her shoulder at the bounding Prince in the far
court as he spoke, and it seemed that he held his glass a trifle too
high in proposing the toast.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Blithers," mumbled King. "Permit me to
introduce Count Quinnox and Lieutenant Dank." Both of the foreigners
had arisen and were standing very erect and soldierly a few yards away.
"You know Miss Felton, of course."

"Delighted to meet you, Count," said Mr. Blithers, advancing with
outstretched hand. He shook the hand of the lieutenant with a shade
less energy. "Enjoying the game?"

"Immensely," said the Count. "It is rarely played so well."

Mr. Blithers affected a most degage manner, squinting carelessly at the
Prince.

"That young chap plays a nice game. Who is he?"

The two Graustarkians stiffened perceptibly, and waited for King to
make the revelation to his visitor.

"That's Prince Robin of--" he began but Mr. Blithers cut him short with
a genial wave of the hand.

"Of course," he exclaimed, as if annoyed by his own stupidity. "I did
hear that you were entertaining a Prince. Slipped my mind, however.
Well, well, we're coming up in the world, eh?--having a real nabob
among us." He hesitated for a moment. "But don't let me interrupt the
game," he went on, as if expecting King to end the contest in order to
present the Prince to him.

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Blithers?" said Mrs. King. "Or would you
prefer a more comfortable chair on the porch? We--"

"No, thanks, I'll stay here if you don't mind," said he hastily, and
dragged up the camp chair that Lieutenant Dank had been occupying.

"Fetch another chair, Lucas," said King to the servant. "And another
glass of lemonade for Miss Felton."

"Felton?" queried Mr. Blithers, sitting down very carefully on the
rather fragile chair, and hitching up his white flannel trousers at the
knees to reveal a pair of purple socks, somewhat elementary in tone.

"We know your daughter, Mr. Blithers," said little Miss Nellie eagerly.

"I was just trying to remember--"

"We live across the road--over there in the little white house with the
ivy--"

"--where I'd heard the name," proceeded Mr. Blithers, still looking at
the Prince. "By jove, I should think my daughter and the Prince would
make a rattling good match. I mean," he added, with a boisterous laugh,
"a good match at tennis. We'll have to get 'em together some day, eh,
up at Blitherwood. How long is the Prince to be with you, Mrs. King?"

"It's rather uncertain, Mr. Blithers," said she, and no more.

Mr. Blithers fanned himself in patience for a moment or two. Then he
looked at his watch.

"Getting along toward dinner-time up our way," he ventured. Everybody
seemed rather intent on the game, which was extremely one-sided.

"Good work!" shouted King as Fannie Felton managed to return an easy
service.

Lieutenant Dank applauded vigorously. "Splendid!" he cried out.
"Capitally placed!"

"They speak remarkably good English, don't they?" said Mr. Blithers in
an audible aside to Mrs. King. "Beats the deuce how quickly they pick
it up."

She smiled. "Officers in the Graustark army are required to speak
English, French and German, Mr. Blithers."

"It's a good idea," said he. "Maud speaks French and Italian like a
native. She was educated in Paris and Rome, you know. Fact is, she's
lived abroad a great deal."

"Is she at home now, Mr. Blithers?"

"Depends on what you'd call home, Mrs. King. We've got so many I don't
know just which is the real one. If you mean Blitherwood, yes, she's
there. Course, there's our town house in Madison Avenue, the place at
Newport, one at Nice and one at Pasadena--California, you know--and a
little shack in London. By the way, my wife says you live quite near
our place in New York."

"We live in Madison Avenue, but it's a rather long street, Mr.
Blithers. Just where is your house?" she inquired, rather spitefully.

He looked astonished. "You surely must know where the Blithers house is
at--"

"Game!" shrieked Fannie Felton, tossing her racket in the air, a victor.

"They're through," said Mr. Blithers in a tone of relief. He shifted
his legs and put his hands on his knees, suggesting a readiness to
arise on an instant's notice.

"Shall we try another set?" called out the Prince.

"Make it doubles," put in Lieutenant Dank, and turned to Nellie. "Shall
we take them on?"

And doubles it was, much to the disgust of Mr. Blithers. He sat through
the nine games, manifesting an interest he was far from feeling, and
then--as dusk fell across the valley--arose expectantly with the cry of
"game and set." He had discoursed freely on the relative merits of
various motor cars, stoutly maintaining that the one he drove was
without question the best in the market (in fact, there wasn't another
"make" that he would have as a gift); the clubs he belonged to in New
York were the only ones that were worth belonging to (he wouldn't be
caught dead in any of the others); his tailor was the only tailor in
the country who knew how to make a decent looking suit of clothes (the
rest of them were "the limit"); the Pomeranian that he had given his
daughter was the best dog of its breed in the world (he was looking at
Mrs. King's Pomeranian as he made the remark); the tennis court at
Blitherwood was pronounced by experts to be the finest they'd, ever
seen--and so on and so on, until the long-drawn-out set was ended.

To his utter amazement, at the conclusion of the game, the four players
made a dash for the house without even so much as a glance in his
direction. It was the Prince who shouted something that sounded like
"now for a shower!" as he raced up the terrace, followed by the other
participants.

Mr. Blithers said something violent under his breath, but resolutely
retained his seat. It was King who glanced slyly at his watch this
time, and subsequently shot a questioning look at his wife. She was
frowning in considerable perplexity, and biting her firm red lips.
Count Quinnox coolly arose and excused himself with the remark that he
was off to dress for dinner. He also looked at his watch, which
certainly was an act that one would hardly have expected of a diplomat.

"Well, well," said Mr. Blithers profoundly. Then he looked at his own
watch--and settled back in his chair, a somewhat dogged compression
about his jaws. He was not the man to be thwarted. "You certainly have
a cosy little place here. King," he remarked after a moment or two.

"We like it," said King, twiddling his fingers behind his back. "Humble
but homelike."

"Mrs. Blithers has been planning to come over for some time, Mrs. King.
I told her she oughtn't to put it off--be neighbourly, don't you know.
That's me. I'm for being neighbourly with my neighbours. But women,
they--well, you know how it is, Mrs. King. Always something turning up
to keep 'em from doing the things they want to do most. And Mrs.
Blithers has so many sociable obli--I beg pardon?"

"I was just wondering if you would stay and have dinner with us, Mr.
Blithers," said she, utterly helpless. She wouldn't look her husband in
the eye--and it was quite fortunate that she was unable to do so, for
it would have resulted in a laughing duet that could never have been
explained.

"Why," said Mr. Blithers, arising and looking at his watch again,
"bless my soul, it is _past_ dinner time, isn't it? I had no idea it
was so late. 'Pon my soul, it's good of you, Mrs. King. You see, we
have dinner at seven up at Blitherwood and--I declare it's half-past
now. I don't see where the time has gone. Thanks, I _will_ stay if you
really mean to be kind to a poor old beggar. Don't do anything extra on
my account, though, just your regular dinner, you know. No frills, if
you please." He looked himself over in some uncertainty. "Will this rag
of mine do?"

"We shan't notice it, Mr. Blithers," said she, and he turned the remark
over in his mind several times as he walked beside her toward the
house. Somehow it didn't sound just right to him, but for the life of
him he couldn't tell why. "We are quite simple folk, you see," she went
on desperately, making note of the fact that her husband lagged behind
like the coward he was. "Red Roof is as nothing compared to
Blitherwood, with its army of servants and--"

Mr. Blithers magnanimously said "Pooh!" and, continuing, remarked that
he wouldn't say exactly how many they employed but he was sure there
were not more than forty, including the gardeners. "Besides," he added
gallantly, "what is an army of servants compared to the army of
Grasstock? You've got the real article, Mrs. King, so don't you worry.
But, I say, if necessary, I can telephone up to the house and have a
dress suit sent down. It won't take fifteen minutes, Lou--er--Mrs.
Blithers always has 'em laid out for me, in case of an emergency, and--"

"Pray do not think of it," she cried. "The men change, of course, after
they've been playing tennis, but we--we--well, you see, you haven't
been playing," she concluded, quite breathlessly.

At that instant the sprightly Feltons dashed pell mell down the steps
and across the lawn homeward, shrieking something unintelligible to
Mrs. King as they passed.

"Rather skittish," observed Mr. Blithers, glaring after them
disapprovingly.

"They are dears," said Mrs. King.

"The--er--Prince attracted by either one of 'em?" he queried.

"He barely knows them, Mr. Blithers."

"I see. Shouldn't think they'd appeal to him. Rather light, I should
say--I mean up here," and he tapped his forehead so that she wouldn't
think that he referred to pounds and ounces. "I don't believe Maud
knows 'em, as the little one said. Maud is rather--"

"It is possible they have mistaken some one else for your daughter,"
said she very gently.

"Impossible," said he with force.

"They are coming back here to dinner," she said, and her eyes sparkled
with mischief. "I shall put you between them, Mr. Blithers. You will
find that they are very bright, attractive girls."

"We'll see," said he succinctly.

King caught them up at the top of the steps. He seemed to be slightly
out of breath.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Blithers. I must get into something besides
these duds I'm wearing," he said. "Would you like to--er--wash up while
we're--"

"No, thanks," interposed Mr. Blithers. "I'm as clean as a whistle.
Don't mind me, please. Run along and dress, both of you. I'll sit out
here and--count the minutes," the last with a very elaborate bow to
Mrs. King.

"Dinner's at half-past eight," said she, and disappeared. Mr. Blithers
recalled his last glance at his watch, and calculated that he would
have at least fifty minutes to count, provided dinner was served
promptly on the dot.

"You will excuse me if I leave you--"

"Don't mention it, old man," said the new guest, rather more curtly
than he intended. "I'll take it easy."

"Shall I have the butler telephone to Blitherwood to say that you won't
be home to dinner?"

"It would be better if he were to say that I wasn't home to dinner,"
said Mr. Blithers. "It's over by this time."

"Something to drink while you're--"

"No, thanks. I can wait," and he sat down.

"You don't mind my--"

"Not at all."

Mr. Blithers settled himself in the big porch chair and glowered at the
shadowy hills on the opposite side of the valley. The little cottage of
the Feltons came directly in his line of vision. He scowled more deeply
than before. At the end of fifteen minutes he started up suddenly and,
after a quick uneasy glance about him, started off across the lawn,
walking more rapidly than was his wont.

He had remembered that his chauffeur was waiting for him with the car
just around a bend in the road--and had been waiting for two hours or
more.

"Go home," he said to the man. "Come back at twelve. And don't use the
cut-out going up that hill, either."

Later on, he met the Prince. Very warmly he shook the tall young man's
hand,--he even gave it a prophetic second squeeze,--and said:

"I am happy to welcome you to the Catskills, Prince."

"Thank you," said Prince Robin.




CHAPTER IV

PROTECTING THE BLOOD


"A most extraordinary person," said Count Quinnox to King, after Mr.
Blithers had taken his departure, close upon the heels of the Feltons
who were being escorted home by the Prince and Dank. The venerable
Graustarkian's heroic face was a study. He had just concluded a
confidential hour in a remote corner of the library with the
millionaire while the younger people were engaged in a noisy though
temperate encounter with the roulette wheel at the opposite end of the
room. "I've never met any one like him, Mr. King." He mopped his brow,
and still looked a trifle dazed.

King laughed. "There isn't any one like him, Count. He is the one and
only Blithers."

"He is very rich?"

"Millions and millions," said Mrs. King. "Didn't he tell you how many?"

"I am not quite sure. This daughter of his--is she attractive?"

"Rather. Why?"

"He informed me that her dot would be twenty millions if she married
the right man. Moreover, she is his only heir. 'Pon my soul, Mrs. King,
he quite took my breath away when he announced that he knew all about
our predicament in relation to the Russian loan. It really sounded
quite--you might say significant. Does--does he imagine that--good
heaven, it's almost stupefying!"

King smoked in silence for many seconds. There was a pucker of
annoyance on his wife's fair brow as she stared reflectively through
the window at the distant lights of Blitherwood, far up the mountain
side.

"Sounds ominous to me," said King drily. "Is Bobby for sale?"

The Count favoured him with a look of horror. "My dear Mr. King!" Then
as comprehension came, he smiled. "I see. No, he isn't for sale. He is
a Prince, not a pawn. Mr. Blithers may be willing to buy but--" he
proudly shook his head.

"He was feeling you out, however," said King, ruminating. "Planting the
seed, so to speak."

"There is a rumour that she is to marry Count Lannet," said his wife.
"A horrid creature. There was talk in the newspapers last winter of an
Italian duke. Poor girl! From what I hear of her, she is rather a good
sort, sensible and more genuinely American in her tastes than might be,
expected after her bringing-up. And she _is_ pretty."

"How about this young Scoville, Rainie?"

"He's a nice boy but--he'll never get her. She is marked up too high
for him. He doesn't possess so much as the title to an acre of land."

"Extraordinary, the way you Americans go after our titles," said the
Count good-naturedly.

"No more extraordinary than the way you Europeans go after our money,"
was her retort.

"I don't know which is the cheaper, titles or money in these days,"
said King. "I understand one can get a most acceptable duke for three
or four millions, a nice marquis or count for half as much, and a Sir
on tick." He eyed the Count speculatively. "Of course a prince of the
royal blood comes pretty high."

"Pretty high," said the Count grimly. He seemed to be turning something
over in his mind. "Your amazing Mr. Blithers further confided to me
that he might be willing to take care of the Russian obligation for us
if no one else turns up in time. As a matter of fact, without waiting
for my reply, he said that he would have his lawyers look into the
matter of security at once. I was somewhat dazed, but I think he said
that it would be no trouble at all for him to provide the money himself
and he would be glad to accommodate us if we had no other plan in mind.
Amazing, amazing!"

"Of course, you told him it was not to be considered," said King
sharply.

"I endeavoured to do so, but I fear he did not grasp what I was saying.
Moreover, I tried to tell him that it was a matter I was not at liberty
to discuss. He didn't hear that, either."

"He is not in the habit of hearing any one but himself, I fear," said
King.

"I am afraid poor Robin is in jeopardy," said his wife, ruefully. "The
Bogieman is after him."

"Does the incomprehensible creature imagine--" began the Count loudly,
and then found it necessary to pull his collar away from his throat as
if to save himself from immediate strangulation.

"Mr. Blithers is not blessed with an imagination, Count," said she. "He
doesn't imagine anything."

"If he should presume to insult our Prince by--" grated the old
soldier, very red in the face and erect--"if he should presume to--"
Words failed him and an instant later he was laughing, but somewhat
uncertainly, with his amused host and hostess.

Mr. Blithers reached home in high spirits. His wife was asleep, but he
awoke her without ceremony.

"I say, Lou, wake up. Got some news for you. We'll have a prince in the
family before you can say Jack Robinson."

She sat up in bed, blinking with dismay. "In heaven's name, Will, what
have you been doing? What--_have_ you been--"

"Cutting bait," said he jovially. "In a day or two I'll throw the hook
in, and you'll see what I land. He's as good as caught right now, but
we'll let him nibble a while before we jerk. And say, he's a corker,
Lou. Finest young fellow I've seen in many a day. He--"

"You don't mean to say that you--you actually said anything to him
about--about--Oh, my God, Will, don't tell me that you were crazy
enough to--" cried the poor woman, almost in tears.

"Now cool down, cool down," he broke in soothingly. "I'm no fool, Lou.
Trust me to do the fine work in a case like this. Sow the right kind of
seeds and you'll get results every time. I merely dropped a few hints,
that's all,--and in the right direction, believe me. Count Equinox will
do the rest. I'll bet my head we'll have this prince running after Maud
so--"

"What _did_ you say?" she demanded. There was a fine moisture on her
upper lip. He sat down on the edge of the bed and talked for half an
hour without interruption. When he came to the end of his oration, she
turned over with her face to the wall and fairly sobbed: "What will the
Kings think of us? What will they think?"

"Who the dickens cares what the Kings think?" he roared, perfectly
aghast at the way she took it. "Who are the Kings? Tell me that! who
are they?"

"I--I can't bear to talk about it. Go to bed."

He wiped his brow helplessly. "You beat anything I've ever seen. What's
the matter with you? Don't you want this prince for Maud? Well, then,
what the deuce are you crying about? You said you wanted him, didn't
you? Well, I'm going to get him. If I say I'll do a thing, you can bet
your last dollar I'll do it. That's the kind of a man William W.
Blithers is. You leave it to me. There's only one way to land these
foreign noblemen, and I'm--"

She faced him once more, and angrily. "Listen to me," she said. "I've
had a talk with Maud. She has gone to bed with a splitting headache and
I'm not surprised. Don't you suppose the poor child has a particle of
pride? She guessed at once just what you had gone over there for and
she cried her eyes out. Now she declares she will never be able to look
the Prince in the face, and as for the Kings--Oh, it's sickening. Why
can't you leave these things to me? You go about like a bull in a china
shop. You might at least have waited until the poor child had an
opportunity to see the man before rushing in with your talk about
money. She--"

"Confound it, Lou, don't blame me for everything. We all three agreed
at lunch that he was a better bargain than this measly count we've been
considering. Maud says she won't marry the count, anyhow, and she _did_
say that if this prince was all that he's cracked up to be, she
wouldn't mind being the Princess of Groostock. You can't deny that,
Lou. You heard her say it. You--"

"She didn't say Groostock," said his wife shortly. "And you forget that
she said she wouldn't promise anything until she'd met him and decided
whether she liked him."

"She'll like him all right," said he confidently.

"She will refuse to even meet him, if she hears of your silly blunder
to-night."

"Refuse to meet him?" gasped Mr. Blithers.

"I may be able to reason with her, Will, but--but she's stubborn, as
well you know. I'm afraid you've spoiled everything."

His face brightened. Lowering his voice to a half-whisper, he said: "We
needn't tell her what I said to that old chap, Lou. Just let her think
I sat around like a gump and never said a word to anybody. We can--"

"But she'll pin you down, Will, and you know you can't lie with a
straight face."

"Maybe--maybe I'd better run down to New York for a few days," he
muttered unhappily. "You can square it better than I can."

"In other words, I can lie with a straight face," she said ironically.

"I never thought she'd balk like this," said he, ignoring the remark.

"I fancy you'd better go to New York," she said mercilessly.

"I've got business there anyhow," muttered he. "I--I think I'll go
before she's up in the morning."

"You can save yourself a bad hour or two if you leave before
breakfast," said she levelly.

"Get around her some way, Lou," he pleaded. "Tell her I'm sorry I had
to leave so early, and--and that I love her better than anything on
earth, and that I'll be back the end of the week. If--if she wants
anything in New York, just have her wire me. You say she cried?"

"She did, and I don't blame her."

Mr. Blithers scowled. "Well--well, you see if you can do any better
than I did. Arrange it somehow for them to meet. She'll--she'll like
him and then--by George, she'll thank us both for the interest we take
in her future. It wouldn't surprise me if she fell in love with him
right off the reel. And you may be sure he'll fall in love with her. He
can't help it. The knowledge that she'll have fifty millions some day
won't have anything to do with his feeling for her, once he--"

"Don't mention the word millions again. Will Blithers."

"All right," said he, more humbly than he knew, "But listen to this,
old girl; I'm going to get this prince for her if it's the last act of
my life. I never failed in anything and I won't fail in this."

"Well, go to bed, dear, and don't worry. I may be able to undo the
mischief. It--it isn't hopeless, of course."

"I'll trust you, Lou, to do your part. Count on me to do mine when the
time comes. And I still insist that I have sowed the right sort of seed
to-night. You'll see. Just wait."

Sure enough, Mr. Blithers was off for New York soon after daybreak the
next morning, and with him went a mighty determination to justify
himself before the week was over. His wily brain was working as it had
never worked before.

Two days later, Count Quinnox received a message from New York bearing
the distressing information that the two private banking institutions
on which he had been depending for aid in the hour of trouble had
decided that it would be impossible for them to make the loan under
consideration. The financial agents who had been operating in behalf of
the Graustark government confessed that they were unable to explain the
sudden change of heart on the part of the bankers, inasmuch as the
negotiations practically had been closed with them. The decision of the
directors was utterly incomprehensible under the circumstances.

Vastly disturbed, Count Quinnox took the first train to New York,
accompanied by Truxton King, who was confident that outside influences
had been brought to bear upon the situation, influences inimical to
Graustark. Both were of the opinion that Russia had something to do
with it, although the negotiations had been conducted with all the
secrecy permissible in such cases.

"We may be able to get to the banks through Blithers," said King.

"How could he possibly be of assistance to us?" the Count inquired.

"He happens to be a director in both concerns, besides being such a
power in the financial world that his word is almost law when it comes
to the big deals."

All the way down to the city Count Quinnox was thoughtful, even
pre-occupied. They were nearing the Terminal when he leaned over and,
laying his hand on King's knee, said, after a long interval of silence
between them:

"I suppose you know that Graustark has not given up hope that Prince
Robin may soon espouse the daughter of our neighbour, Dawsbergen."

King gave him a queer look. "By jove, that's odd. I was thinking of
that very thing when you spoke."

"The union would be of no profit to us in a pecuniary way, my friend,"
explained the Count. "Still it is most desirable for other reasons.
Dawsbergen is not a rich country, nor are its people progressive. The
reigning house, however, is an old one and rich in traditions. Money,
my dear King, is not everything in this world. There are some things it
cannot buy. It is singularly ineffective when opposed to an honest
sentiment. Even though the young Princess were to come to Graustark
without a farthing, she would still be hailed with the wildest acclaim.
We are a race of blood worshippers, if I may put it in that way. She
represents a force that has dominated our instincts for a great many
centuries, and we are bound hand and foot, heart and soul, by the
so-called fetters of imperialism. We are fierce men, but we bend the
knee and we wear the yoke because the sword of destiny is in the hand
that drives us. To-day we are ruled by a prince whose sire was not of
the royal blood. I do not say that we deplore this infusion, but it
behooves us to protect the original strain. We must conserve our royal
blood. Our prince assumes an attitude of independence that we find
difficult to overcome. He is prepared to defy an old precedent in
support of a new one. In other words, he points out the unmistakably
happy union of his own mother, the late Princess Yetive, and the
American Lorry, and it is something we cannot go behind. He declares
that his mother set an example that he may emulate without prejudice to
his country if he is allowed a free hand in choosing his mate.

"But we people of Graustark cannot look with complaisance on the
possible result of his search for a sharer of the throne. Traditions
must be upheld--or we die. True, the Crown Princess of Dawsbergen has
American blood in her veins but her sire is a prince royal. Her mother,
as you know, was an American girl. She who sits on the throne with
Robin must be a princess by birth or the grip on the sword of destiny
is weakened and the dynasty falters. I know what is in your mind. You
are wondering why our Prince should not wed one of your fabulously rich
American girls--"

"My dear Count," said King warmly, "I am not thinking anything of the
sort. Naturally I am opposed to your pre-arranged marriages and all
that sort of thing, but still I appreciate what it means as a
safe-guard to the crown you support. I sincerely hope that Robin may
find his love-mate in the small circle you draw for him, but I fear it
isn't likely. He is young, romantic, impressionable, and he abhors the
thought of marriage without love. He refuses to even consider the
princess you have picked out for him. Time may prove to him that his
ideals are false and he may resign himself to the--I was about to say
the inevitable."

"Inevitable is the word, Mr. King," said Count Quinnox grimly. "'Pon my
word, sir, I don't know what our princes and princesses are coming to
in these days. There seems to be a perfect epidemic of independence
among them. They marry whom they please in spite of royal command, and
the courts of Europe are being shorn of half their glory. It wouldn't
surprise me to see an American woman on the throne of England one of
these days. 'Gad, sir, you know what happened in Axphain two years ago.
Her crown prince renounced the throne and married a French singer."

"And they say he is a very happy young beggar," said King drily.

"It is the prerogative of fools to be happy," said Count Quinnox.

"Not so with princes, eh?"

"It is a duty with princes, Mr. King."

They had not been in New York City an hour before they discovered that
William W. Blithers was the man to whom they would have to appeal if
they expected to gain a fresh hearing with the banks. The agents were
in a dismal state of mind. The deal had been blocked no later than the
afternoon of the day before and at a time when everything appeared to
be going along most swimmingly. Blithers was the man to see; he and he
alone could bring pressure to bear on the directorates that might
result in a reconsideration of the surprising verdict. Something had
happened during the day to alter the friendly attitude of the banks;
they were now politely reluctant, as one of the agents expressed it,
which really meant that opposition to the loan had appeared from some
unexpected source, as a sort of eleventh hour obstacle. The heads of
the two banks had as much as said that negotiations were at an end,
that was the long and short of it; it really didn't matter what was
back of their sudden change of front, the fact still remained that the
transaction was as "dead as a door nail" unless it could be revived by
the magnetic touch of a man like Blithers.

"What can have happened to cause them to change their minds so
abruptly?" cried the perplexed Count. "Surely our prime minister and
the cabinet have left nothing undone to convince them of Graustark's
integrity and--"

"Pardon me. Count," interrupted one of the brokers, "shall I try to
make an appointment for you with Mr. Blithers? I hear he is in town for
a few days."

Count Quinnox looked to Truxton King for inspiration and that gentleman
favoured him with a singularly dis-spiriting nod of the head. The old
Graustarkian cleared his throat and rather stiffly announced that he
would receive Mr. Blithers if he would call on him at the Ritz that
afternoon.

"What!" exclaimed both agents, half-starting from their chairs in
amazement.

The Count stared hard at them. "You may say to him that I will be in at
four."

"He'll tell you to go to--ahem!" The speaker coughed just in time.
"Blithers isn't in the habit of going out of his way to--to oblige
anybody. He wouldn't do it for the Emperor of Germany."

"But," said the Count with a frosty smile, "I am not the Emperor of
Germany."

"Better let me make an appointment for you to see him at his office.
It's just around the corner." There was a pleading note in the
speaker's voice.

"You might save your face, Calvert, by saying that the Count will be
pleased to have him take tea with him at the Ritz," suggested King.

"Tea!" exclaimed Calvert scornfully. "Blithers, doesn't drink the
stuff."

"It's a figure of speech," said King patiently.

"All right, I'll telephone," said the other dubiously.

He came back a few minutes later with a triumphant look in his eye.

"Blithers says to tell Count Quinnox he'll see him to-morrow morning at
half-past eight at his office. Sorry he's engaged this afternoon."

"But did you say I wanted him to have tea with us!" demanded the Count,
an angry flush leaping to his cheek.

"I did. I'm merely repeating what he said in reply. Half-past eight, at
his office, Count. Those were his words."

"It is the most brazen exhibition of insolence I've ever--" began the
Count furiously, but checked himself with an effort. "I--I hope you did
not say that I would come, sir!"

"Yes. It's the only way--"

"Well, be good enough to call him up again and say to him that
I'll--I'll see him damned before I'll come to his office to-morrow at
eight-thirty or at any other hour." And with that the Count got up and
stalked out of the office, putting on his hat as he did so.

"Count," said King, as they descended in the elevator, "I've got an
idea in my head that Blithers will be at the Ritz at four."

"Do you imagine, sir, that I will receive him?"

"Certainly. Are you not a diplomat?"

"I am a Minister of War," said the Count, and his scowl was an
indication of absolute proficiency in the science.

"And what's more," went on King, reflectively, "it wouldn't in the
least surprise me if Blithers is the man behind the directors in this
sudden move of the banks."

"My dear King, he displayed the keenest interest and sympathy the other
night at your house. He--"

"Of course I may be wrong," admitted King, but his brow was clouded.

Shortly after luncheon that day, Mrs. Blithers received a telegram from
her husband. It merely stated that he was going up to have tea with the
Count at four o'clock, and not to worry as "things were shaping
themselves nicely."




CHAPTER V

PRINCE ROBIN IS ASKED TO STAND UP


Late the same evening. Prince Robin, at Red Roof, received a long
distance telephone communication from New York City. The Count was on
the wire. He imparted the rather startling news that William W.
Blithers had volunteered to take care of the loan out of his own
private means! Quinnox was cabling the Prime Minister for advice and
would remain in New York for further conference with the capitalist,
who, it was to be assumed, would want time to satisfy himself as to the
stability of Graustark's resources.

Robin was jubilant. The thought had not entered his mind that there
could be anything sinister in this amazing proposition of the great
financier.

If Count Quinnox himself suspected Mr. Blithers of an ulterior motive,
the suspicion was rendered doubtful by the evidence of sincerity on the
part of the capitalist who professed no sentiment in the matter but
insisted on the most complete indemnification by the Graustark
government. Even King was impressed by the absolute fairness of the
proposition. Mr. Blithers demanded no more than the banks were asking
for in the shape of indemnity; a first lien mortgage for 12 years on
all properties owned and controlled by the government and the deposit
of all bonds held by the people with the understanding that the
interest would be paid to them regularly, less a small per cent as
commission. His protection would be complete,--for the people of
Graustark owned fully four-fifths of the bonds issued by the government
for the construction of public service institutions; these by consent
of Mr. Blithers were to be limited to three utilities: railroads,
telegraph and canals. These properties, as Mr. Blithers was by way of
knowing, were absolutely sound and self-supporting. According to his
investigators in London and Berlin, they were as solid as Gibraltar and
not in need of one-tenth the protection required by the famous rock.

Robin inquired whether he was to come to New York at once in relation
to the matter, and was informed that it would not be necessary at
present. In fact, Mr. Blithers preferred to let the situation remain in
statu quo (as he expressed it to the Count), until it was determined
whether the people were willing to deposit their bonds, a condition
which was hardly worth while worrying about in view of the fact that
they had already signified their readiness to present them for security
in the original proposition to the banks. Mr. Blithers, however, would
give himself the pleasure of calling upon the Prince at Red Roof later
in the week, when the situation could be discussed over a dish of tea
or a cup of lemonade. That is precisely the way Mr. Blithers put it.

The next afternoon Mrs. Blithers left cards at Red Roof--or rather, the
foot-man left them--and on the day following the Kings and their guests
received invitations to a ball at Blitherwood on the ensuing Friday,
but four days off. While Mrs. King and the two young men were
discussing the invitation the former was called to the telephone. Mrs.
Blithers herself was speaking.

"I hope you will pardon me for calling you up, Mrs. King, but I wanted
to be sure that you can come on the seventeenth. We want so much to
have the Prince and his friends with us. Mr. Blithers has taken a great
fancy to Prince Robin and Count Quinnox, and he declares the whole
affair will be a fiasco if they are not to be here."

"It is good of you to ask us, Mrs. Blithers. The Prince is planning to
leave for Washington within the next few days and I fear--"

"Oh, you must prevail upon him to remain over, my Dear Mrs. King. We
are to have a lot of people up from Newport and Tuxedo--you know the
crowd--it's the _real_ crowd--and I'm sure he will enjoy meeting them.
Mr. Blithers has arranged for a special train to bring them up--a train
de luxe, you may be sure, both as to equipment and occupant. Zabo's
orchestra, too. A notion seized us last night to give the ball, which
accounts for the short notice. It's the way we do everything--on a
minute's notice. I think they're jollier if one doesn't go through the
agony of a month's preparation, don't you? Nearly every one has wired
acceptance, so we're sure to have a lot of nice people. Loads of
girls,--you know the ones I mean,--and Mr. Blithers is trying to
arrange a sparring match between those two great prizefighters,--you
know the ones, Mrs. King,--just to give us poor women a chance to see
what a real man looks like in--I mean to say, what marvellous specimens
they are, don't you know. Now please tell the Prince that he positively
cannot afford to miss a real sparring match. Every one is terribly
excited over it, and naturally we are keeping it very quiet. Won't it
be a lark? My daughter thinks it's terrible, but she is finicky. One of
them is a negro, isn't he?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

"You can imagine how splendid they must be when I tell you that Mr.
Blithers is afraid they won't come up for less than fifteen thousand
dollars. Isn't it ridiculous?"

"Perfectly," said Mrs. King.

"Of course, we shall insist on the Prince receiving with us. He is our
_piece de resistance_. You--"

"I'm sure it will be awfully jolly, Mrs. Blithers. What did you say?"

"I beg pardon?"

"I'm sorry. I was speaking to the Prince. He just called up stairs to
me."

"What does he say?"

"It was really nothing. He was asking about Hobbs."

"Hobbs? Tell him, please, that if he has any friends he would like to
have invited we shall be only too proud to--"

"Oh, thank you! I'll tell him."

"You must not let him go away before--"

"I shall try my best, Mrs. Blithers. It is awfully kind of you to ask
us to--"

"You must all come up to dinner either to-morrow night or the night
after. I shall be so glad if you will suggest anything that can help us
to make the ball a success. You see, I know how terribly clever you
are, Mrs. King."

"I am dreadfully stupid."

"Nonsense!"

"I'm sorry to say we're dining out to-morrow night and on Thursday we
are having some people here for--"

"Can't you bring them all up to Blitherwood? We'd be delighted to have
them, I'm sure."

"I'm afraid I couldn't manage it. They--well, you see, they are in
mourning."

"Oh, I see. Well, perhaps Maud and I could run in and see you for a few
minutes to-morrow or next day, just to talk things over a
little--what's that, Maud? I beg your pardon, Mrs. King. Ahem! Well,
I'll call you up to-morrow, if you don't mind being bothered about a
silly old ball. Good-bye. Thank you so much."

Mrs. King confronted Robin in the lower hall a few seconds later and
roundly berated him for shouting up the steps that Hobbs ought to be
invited to the ball. Prince Robin rolled on a couch and roared with
delight. Lieutenant Dank, as became an officer of the Royal Guard,
stood at attention--in the bow window with his back to the room, very
red about the ears and rigid to the bursting point.

"I suppose, however, we'll have to keep on the good side of the
Blithers syndicate," said Robin soberly, after his mirth and subsided
before her wrath. "Good Lord, Aunt Loraine, I simply cannot go up there
and stand in line like a freak in a side show for all the ladies and
girls to gape at I'll get sick the day of the party, that's what I'll
do, and you can tell 'em how desolated I am over my misfortune."

"They've got their eyes on you, Bobby," she said flatly. "You can't
escape so easily as all that. If you're not very, very careful they'll
have you married to the charming Miss Maud before you can say Jack
Rabbit."

"Think that's their idea?"

"Unquestionably."

He stretched himself lazily. "Well, it may be that she's the very one
I'm looking for, Auntie. Who knows?"

"You silly boy!"

"She may be the Golden Girl in every sense of the term," said he
lightly. "You say she's pretty?"

"My notion of beauty and yours may not agree at all."

"That's not an answer."

"Well, I consider her to be a very good-looking girl."

"Blonde?"

"Mixed. Light brown hair and very dark eyes and lashes. A little taller
than I, more graceful and a splendid horse-woman. I've seen her riding."

"Astride?"

"No. I've seen her in a ball gown, too. Most men think she's stunning."

"Well, let's have a game of billiards," said he, dismissing Maud in a
way that would have caused the proud Mr. Blithers to reel with
indignation.

A little later on, at the billiard table, Mrs. King remarked, apropos
of nothing and quite out of a clear sky, so to speak:

"And she'll do anything her parents command her to do, that's the worst
of it."

"What are you talking about? It's your shot."

"If they order her to marry a title, she'll do it. That's the way she's
been brought up, I'm afraid."

"Meaning Maud?"

"Certainly. Who else? Poor thing, she hasn't a chance in the world,
with that mother of hers."

"Shoot, please. Mark up six for me, Dank."

"Wait till you see her, Bobby."

"All right. I'll wait," said he cheerfully.

The next day Count Quinnox and King returned from the city, coming up
in a private car with Mr. Blithers himself.

"I'll have Maud drive me over this afternoon," said Mr. Blithers, as
they parted at the station.

But Maud did not drive him over that afternoon. The pride, joy and hope
of the Blithers family flatly refused to be a party of any such
arrangement, and set out for a horse-back ride in a direction that took
her as far away from Red Roof as possible.

"What's come over the girl?" demanded Mr. Blithers, completely
non-plused. "She's never acted like this before, Lou."

"Some silly notion about being made a laughingstock, I gather," said
his wife. "Heaven knows I've talked to her till I'm utterly worn out.
She says she won't be bullied into even meeting the Prince, much less
marrying him. I've never known her to be so pig-headed. Usually I can
make her see things in a sensible way. She would have married the duke,
I'm sure, if--if you hadn't put a stop to it on account of his
so-called habits. She--"

"Well, it's turned out for the best, hasn't it? Isn't a prince better
than a duke?"

"You've said all that before, Will. I wanted her to run down with me
this morning to talk the ball over with Mrs. King, and what do you
think happened?"

"She wouldn't go?"

"Worse than that. She wouldn't let _me_ go. Now, things are coming to a
pretty pass when--"

"Never mind. I'll talk to her," said Mr. Blithers, somewhat bleakly
despite his confident front. "She loves her old dad. I can do
_anything_ with her."

"She's on a frightfully high horse lately," sighed Mrs. Blithers
fretfully. "It--it can't be that young Scoville, can it?"

"If I thought it was, I'd--I'd--" There is no telling what Mr. Blithers
would have done to young Scoville, at the moment, for he couldn't think
of anything dire enough to inflict upon the suspected meddler.

"In any event, it's dreadfully upsetting to me, Will. She--she won't
listen to anything. And here's something else: She declares she won't
stay here for the ball on Friday night."

Mr. Blithers had her repeat it, and then almost missed the chair in
sitting down, he was so precipitous about it.

"Won't stay for her own ball?" he bellowed.

"She says it isn't her ball," lamented his wife.

"If it isn't hers, in the name of God whose is it?"

"Ask her, not me," flared Mrs. Blithers. "And don't glare at me like
that. I've had nothing but glares since you went away. I thought I was
doing the very nicest thing in the world when I suggested the ball. It
would bring them together--"

"The only two it will actually bring together, it seems, are those
damned prize-fighters. They'll get together all right, but what good is
it going to do us, if Maud's going to act like this? See here, Lou,
I've got things fixed so that the Prince of Groostuck can't very well
do anything but ask Maud to--"

"That's just it!" she exclaimed. "Maud sees through the whole
arrangement, Will. She said last night that she wouldn't be at all
surprised if you offered to assume Graustark's debt to Russia in order
to--"

"That's just what I've done, old girl," said he in triumph. "I'll have
'em sewed up so tight by next week that they can't move without asking
me to loosen the strings. And you can tell Maud once more for me that
I'll get this Prince for her if--"

"But she doesn't want him!"

"She doesn't know what she wants!" he roared. "Where is she going?"

"You saw her start off on Katydid, so why--"

"I mean on the day of the ball."

"To New York."

"By gad, I'll--I'll see about _that_," he grated. "I'll see that she
doesn't leave the grounds if I have to put guards at every gate. She's
got to be reasonable. What does she think I'm putting sixteen millions
into the Grasstork treasury for? She's got to stay here for the ball.
Why, it would be a crime for her to--but what's the use talking about
it? She'll be here and she'll lead the grand march with the Prince.
I've got it all--"

"Well, you'll have to talk to her. I've done all that I can do. She
swears she won't marry a man she's never seen."

"Ain't we trying to show him to her?" he snorted. "She won't have to
marry him till she's seen him, and when she does see him she'll
apologise to me for all the nasty things she's been saying about me."
For a moment it looked as though Mr. Blithers would dissolve into
tears, so suddenly was he afflicted by self-pity. "By the way, didn't
she like the necklace I sent up to her from Tiffany's?"

"I suppose so. She said you were a dear old foozler."

"Foozler? What's that mean?" He wasn't quite sure, but somehow it
sounded like a term of opprobrium.

"I haven't the faintest idea," she said shortly.

"Well, why didn't you ask her? You've had charge of her bringing up. If
she uses a word that you don't know the meaning of, you ought to--"

"Are you actually going to lend all that money to Graustark?" she cut
in.

He glared at her uncertainly for a moment and then nodded his head. The
words wouldn't come.

"Are you not a trifle premature about it?" she demanded with deep
significance in her manner.

This time he did not nod his head, nor did he shake it. He simply got
up and walked out of the room. Half way across the terrace he stopped
short and said it with a great fervour and instantly felt very much
relieved. In fact, the sensation of relief was so pleasant that he
repeated it two or three times and then had to explain to a near by
gardener that he didn't mean him at all. Then he went down to the
stables. All the grooms and stableboys came tumbling into the stable
yard in response to his thunderous shout.

"Saddle Red Rover, and be quick about it," he commanded.

"Going out, sir?" asked the head groom, touching his fore-lock.

"I am," said Mr. Blithers succinctly and with a withering glare. Red
Rover must have been surprised by the unusual celerity with which he
was saddled and bridled. If there could be such a thing as a horse
looking shocked, that beast certainly betrayed himself as he was yanked
away from his full manger and hustled out to the mounting block.

"Which way did Miss Blithers go?" demanded Mr. Blithers, in the saddle.
Two grooms were clumsily trying to insert his toes into the stirrups,
at the same time pulling down his trousers legs, which had a tendency
to hitch up in what seemed to them a most exasperating disregard for
form. To their certain knowledge, Mr. Blithers had never started out
before without boot and spur; therefore, the suddenness of his present
sortie sank into their intellects with overwhelming impressiveness.

"Down the Cutler road, sir, three quarters of an hour ago. She refused
to have a groom go along, sir."

"Get ap!" said Mr. Blithers, and almost ran down a groom in his rush
for the gate. For the information of the curious, it may be added that
he did not overtake his daughter until she had been at home for half an
hour, but he was gracious enough to admit to himself that he had been a
fool to pursue a stern chase rather than to intercept her on the back
road home, which _any_ fool might have known she would take.

His wife came upon him a few minutes later while he was feverishly
engaged in getting into his white flannels.

"Tell Maud I'm going over to have tea with the Prince," he grunted,
without looking up from the shoe lace he was tying in a hard knot. "I
want her to go with me in fifteen minutes. Told 'em I would bring her
over to play tennis. Tell her to put on tennis clothes. Hurry up, Lou.
Where's my watch? What time is it? For God's sake, look at the watch,
not at me! I'm not a clock! What?"

"Mrs. King called up half an hour ago to say that they were all
motoring over to the Grandby Tavern for tea and wouldn't be back till
half-past seven--"

He managed to look up at that. For a moment he was speechless. No one
had ever treated him like this before.

"Well, I'll be--hanged! Positive engagement. But's it's all right," he
concluded resolutely. "I can motor to Grandby Tavern, too, can't I?
Tell Maud not to mind tennis clothes, but to hurry. Want to go along?"

"No, I don't," she said emphatically. "And Maud isn't going, either."

"She isn't, eh?"

"No, she isn't. Can't you leave this affair to me?"

"I'm pretty hot under the collar," he warned her, and it was easy to
believe that he was.

"Don't rush in where angels fear to tread, Will dear," she pleaded. It
was so unusual for her to adopt a pleading tone that he overlooked the
implication. Besides he had just got through calling himself a fool, so
perhaps she was more or less justified. Moreover, at that particular
moment she undertook to assist him with his necktie. Her soft, cool
fingers touched his double chin and seemed to caress it lovingly. He
lifted his head very much as a dog does when he is being tickled on
that velvety spot under the lower jaw.

"Stuff and nonsense," he murmured throatily.

"I thought you would see it that way," she said so calmly that he
blinked a couple of times in sheer perplexity and then diminished his
double chin perceptibly by a very helpful screwing up of his lower lip.
He said nothing, preferring to let her think that the most important
thing in the world just then was the proper adjustment of the wings of
his necktie. "There!" she said, and patted him on the cheek, to show
that the task had been successfully accomplished.

"Better come along for a little spin," he said, readjusting the tie
with man-like ingenuousness. "Do you good, Lou."

"Very well," she said. "Can you wait a few minutes?"

"Long as you like," said he graciously. "Ask Maud if she wants to come,
too."

"I am sure she will enjoy it," said his wife, and then Mr. Blithers
descended to the verandah to think. Somehow he felt if he did a little
more thinking perhaps matters wouldn't be so bad. Among other things,
he thought it would be a good idea not to motor in the direction of
Grandby Tavern. And he also thought it was not worth while resenting
the fact that his wife and daughter took something over an hour to
prepare for the little spin.

In the meantime, Prince Robin was racing over the mountain roads in a
high-power car, attended by a merry company of conspirators whose sole
object was to keep him out of the clutches of that far-reaching
octopus, William W. Blithers.




CHAPTER VI

THE PRINCE AND MR. BLITHERS


In order to get on with the narrative, I shall be as brief as possible
in the matter of the Blitherwood ball. In the first place, mere words
would prove to be not only feeble but actually out of place. Any
attempt to define the sensation of awe by recourse to a dictionary
would put one in the ridiculous position of seeking the unattainable.
The word has its meaning, of course, but the sensation itself is quite
another thing. As every one who attended the ball was filled with awe,
which he tried to put forward as admiration, the attitude of the guest
was no more limp than that of the chronicler. In the second place, I am
not qualified by experience or imagination to describe a ball that
stood its promoter not a penny short of one hundred thousand dollars. I
believe I could go as high as a fifteen or even twenty thousand dollar
affair with some sort of intelligence, but anything beyond those
figures renders me void and useless.

Mr. Blithers not only ran a special train de luxe from New York City,
but another from Washington and still another from Newport, for it
appears that the Newporters at the last minute couldn't bear the idea
of going to the Metropolis out of season. He actually had to take them
around the city in such a way that they were not even obliged to submit
to a glimpse of the remotest outskirts of the Bronx.

From Washington came an amazing company of foreign ladies and
gentlemen, ranging from the most exalted Europeans to the lowliest of
the yellow races. They came with gold all over them; they tinkled with
the clash of a million cymbals. The President of the United States
almost came. Having no spangles of his own, he delegated a
Major-General and a Rear-Admiral to represent Old Glory, and no doubt
sulked in the White House because a parsimonious nation refuses to buy
braid and buttons for its chief executive.

Any one who has seen a gentleman in braid, buttons and spangles will
understand how impossible it is to describe him. One might enumerate
the buttons and the spangles and even locate them precisely upon his
person, but no mortal intellect can expand sufficiently to cope with an
undertaking that would try even the powers of Him who created the
contents of those wellstuffed uniforms.

A car load of orchids and gardenias came up, fairly depleting the
florists' shops on Manhattan Island, and with them came a small army of
skilled decorators. In order to deliver his guests at the doors of
Blitherwood, so to speak, the incomprehensible Mr. Blithers had a
temporary spur of track laid from the station two miles away, employing
no fewer than a thousand men to do the work in forty-eight hours. (Work
on a terminal extension in New York was delayed for a week or more in
order that he might borrow the rails, ties and worktrains!)

Two hundred and fifty precious and skillfully selected guests ate two
hundred and fifty gargantuan dinners and twice as many suppers; drank
barrels of the rarest of wines; smoked countless two dollar Perfectos
and stuffed their pockets with enough to last them for days to come;
burnt up five thousand cigarettes and ate at least two dozen eggs for
breakfast, and then flitted away with a thousand complaints in two
hundred and fifty Pullman drawing-rooms, Nothing could have been more
accurately pulled-off than the wonderful Blitherwood ball. (The
sparring match on the lawn, under the glare of a stupendous cluster of
lights, resulted in favour of Mr. Bullhead Brown, who successfully--if
accidentally--landed with considerably energy on the left lower corner
of Mr. Sledge-hammer Smith's diaphragm, completely dividing the purse
with him in four scientifically satisfactory rounds, although they came
to blows over it afterwards when Mr. Smith told Mr. Brown what he
thought of him for hitting with such fervour just after they had eaten
a hearty meal.)

A great many mothers inspected Prince Robin with interest and confessed
to a really genuine enthusiasm: something they had not experienced
since one of the German princes got close enough to Newport to see it
quite clearly through his marine glasses from the bridge of a
battleship. The ruler of Graustark--(four-fifths of the guests asked
where in the world it was!)--was the lion of the day. Mr. Blithers was
annoyed because he did not wear his crown, but was somewhat mollified
by the information that he had neglected to bring it along with him in
his travels. He was also considerably put out by the discovery that the
Prince had left his white and gold uniform at home and had to appear in
an ordinary dress-suit, which, to be sure, fitted him perfectly but did
not achieve distinction. He did wear a black and silver ribbon across
his shirt front, however, and a tiny gold button in the lapel of his
coat; otherwise he might have been mistaken for a "regular guest," to
borrow an expression from Mr. Blithers. The Prince's host manoeuvred
until nearly one o'clock in the morning before he succeeded in getting
a close look at the little gold button, and then found that the
inscription thereon was in some sort of hieroglyphics that afforded no
enlightenment whatsoever.

Exercising a potentate's prerogative, Prince Robin left the scene of
festivity somewhat earlier than was expected. As a matter of fact, he
departed shortly after one. Moreover, being a prince, it did not occur
to him to offer any excuse for leaving so early, but gracefully thanked
his host and hostess and took himself off without the customary
assertion that he had had a splendid time. Strange to say, he did not
offer a single comment on the sumptuousness of the affair that had been
given in his honor. Mr. Blithers couldn't get over that. He couldn't
help thinking that the fellow had not been properly brought-up, or was
it possible that he was not in the habit of going out in good society?

Except for one heart-rending incident, the Blitherwood ball was the
most satisfying event in the lives of Mr. and Mrs. William W. Blithers.
That incident, however, happened to be the hasty and well-managed
flight of Maud Applegate Blithers at an hour indefinitely placed
somewhere between four and seven o'clock on the morning of the great
day.

Miss Blithers was not at the ball. She was in New York City serenely
enjoying one of the big summer shows, accompanied by young Scoville and
her onetime governess, a middle-aged gentlewoman who had seen even
better days than those spent in the employ of William W. Blithers. The
resolute young lady had done precisely what she said she would do, and
for the first time in his life Mr. Blithers realised that his daughter
was a creation and not a mere condition. He wilted like a famished
water-lily and went about the place in a state of bewilderment so bleak
that even his wife felt sorry for him and refrained from the "I told
you so" that might have been expected under the circumstances.

Maud's telegram, which came at three o'clock in the afternoon, was
meant to be reassuring but it failed of its purpose. It said: "Have a
good time and don't lose any sleep over me. I shall sleep very soundly
myself at the Ritz to-night and hope you will be doing the same when I
return home to-morrow afternoon, for I know you will be dreadfully
tired after all the excitement. Convey my congratulations to the guest
of honor and believe me to be your devoted and obedient daughter."

The co-incidental absence of young Mr. Scoville from the ball was a
cause of considerable uneasiness on the part of the agitated Mr.
Blithers, who commented upon it quite expansively in the seclusion of
his own bed-chamber after the last guest had sought repose. Some of the
things that Mr. Blithers said about Mr. Scoville will never be
forgotten by the four walls of that room, if, as commonly reported,
they possess auricular attachments.

Any one who imagines that Mr. Blithers accepted Maud's defection as a
final disposition of the cause he had set his heart upon is very much
mistaken in his man. Far from receding so much as an inch from his
position, he at once set about to strengthen it in such a way that Maud
would have to come to the conclusion that it was useless to combat the
inevitable, and ultimately would heap praises upon his devoted head for
the great blessing he was determined to bestow upon her in spite of
herself.

The last of the special coaches was barely moving on its jiggly way to
the main line, carrying the tag end of the revellers, when he set forth
in his car for a mid-day visit to Red Roof. Already the huge camp of
Slavs and Italians was beginning to jerk up the borrowed rails and
ties; the work trains were rumbling and snorting in the meadows above
Blitherwood, tottering about on the uncertain road-bed. He gave a few
concise and imperative orders to obsequious superintendents and
foremen, who subsequently repeated them with even greater freedom to
the perspiring foreigners, and left the scene of confusion without so
much as a glance behind. Wagons, carts, motortrucks and all manner of
wheeled things were scuttling about Blitherwood as he shot down the
long, winding avenue toward the lodge gates, but he paid no attention
to them. They were removing the remnants of a glory that had passed at
five in the morning. He was not interested in the well-plucked
skeleton. It was a nuisance getting rid of it, that was all, and he
wanted it to be completely out of sight when he returned from Red Roof.
If a vestige of the ruins remained, some one would hear from him! That
was understood. And when Maud came home on the five-fourteen she would
not find him asleep--not by a long shot!

Half-way to Red Roof, he espied a man walking briskly along the road
ahead of him. To be perfectly accurate, he was walking in the middle of
the road and his back was toward the swift-moving, almost noiseless
Packard.

"Blow the horn for the dam' fool," said Mr. Blithers to the chauffeur.
A moment later the pedestrian leaped nimbly aside and the car shot
past, the dying wail of the siren dwindling away in the whirr of the
wheels. "Look where you're going!" shouted Mr. Blithers from the
tonneau, as if the walker had come near to running him down instead of
the other way around. "Whoa! Stop 'er, Jackson!" he called to the
driver. He had recognised the pedestrian.

The car came to a stop with grinding brakes, and at the same time the
pedestrian halted a hundred yards away.

"Back up," commanded Mr. Blithers in some haste, for the Prince seemed
to be on the point of deserting the highway for the wood that lined it.
"Morning, Prince!" he shouted, waving his hat vigorously. "Want a lift?"

The car shot backward with almost the same speed that it had gone
forward, and the Prince exercised prudence when he stepped quickly up
the sloping bank at the roadside.

"Were you addressing me," he demanded curtly, as the car came to a stop.

"Yes, your highness. Get in. I'm going your way," said Mr. Blithers
beamingly.

"I mean a moment ago, when you shouted 'Look where you are going,'"
said Robin, an angry gleam in his eye.

Mr. Blithers looked positively dumbfounded. "Good Heavens, no!" he
cried. "I was speaking to the chauffeur." (Jackson's back seemed to
stiffen a little.) "I've told him a thousand times to be careful about
running up on people like that. Now this is the last time I'll warn
you, Jackson. The next time you go. Understand? Just because you happen
to be driving for me doesn't signify that you can run over people who--"

"It's all right, Mr. Blithers," interrupted Robin, with his fine smile.
"No harm done. I'll walk if you don't mind. Out for a bit of exercise,
you know. Thank you just the same."

"Where are you bound for?" asked Mr. Blithers.

"I don't know. I ramble where my fancy leads me."

"I guess I'll get out and stroll along with you. God knows I need more
exercise than I get. Is it agreeable?" He was on the ground by this
time. Without waiting for an answer, he directed Jackson to run on to
Red Roof and wait for him.

"I shall be charmed," said Robin, a twinkle in the tail of his eye. "An
eight or ten mile jaunt will do you a world of good, I'm sure. Shall we
explore this little road up the mountain and then drop down to Red
Roof? I don't believe it can be more than five or six miles."

"Capital," said Mr. Blithers with enthusiasm. He happened to know that
it was a "short cut" to Red Roof and less than a mile as the crow
flies. True, there was something of an ascent ahead of them, but there
was also a corresponding descent at the other end. Besides, he was
confident he could keep up with the long-legged youngster by the
paradoxical process of holding back. The Prince, having suggested the
route, couldn't very well be arbitrary in traversing it. Mr. Blithers
regarded the suggestion as an invitation.

They struck off into the narrow woodland road, not precisely side by
side, but somewhat after the fashion of a horseback rider and his
groom, or, more strictly speaking, as a Knight and his vassal. Robin
started off so briskly that Mr. Blithers fell behind a few paces and
had to exert himself considerably to keep from losing more ground as
they took the first steep rise. The road was full of ruts and cross
ruts and littered with boulders that had ambled down the mountain-side
in the spring moving. To save his life, Mr. Blithers couldn't keep to a
straight course. He went from rut to rut and from rock to rock with the
fidelity of a magnetised atom, seldom putting his foot where he meant
to put it, and never by any chance achieving a steady stride. He would
take one long, purposeful step and then a couple of short "feelers,"
progressing very much as a man tramps over a newly ploughed field.

At the top of the rise, Robin considerately slackened his pace and the
chubby gentleman drew alongside, somewhat out of breath but as cheerful
as a cricket.

"Going too fast for you, Mr. Blithers?" inquired Robin.

"Not at all," said Mr. Blithers. "By the way, Prince," he went on,
cunningly seizing the young man's arm and thereby putting a check on
his speed for the time being at least, "I want to explain my daughter's
unfortunate absence last night. You must have thought it very strange.
Naturally it was unavoidable. The poor girl is really quite
heart-broken. I beg pardon!" He stepped into a rut and came perilously
near to going over on his nose. "Beastly road! Thanks. Good thing I
took hold of you. Yes, as I was saying, it was really a most
unfortunate thing; missed the train, don't you see. Went down for the
day--just like a girl, you know--and missed the train."

"Ah, I see. She missed it twice."

"Eh? Oh! Ha ha! Very good! She might just as well have missed it a
dozen times as once, eh? Well, she could have arranged for a special to
bring her up, but she's got a confounded streak of thriftiness in her.
Couldn't think of spending the money. Silly idea of--I beg your pardon,
did I hurt you? I'm pretty heavy, you know, no light weight when I come
down on a fellow's toe like that. What say to sitting down on this log
for a while? Give your foot a chance to rest a bit. Deucedly awkward of
me. Ought to look out where I'm stepping, eh?"

"It really doesn't matter, Mr. Blithers," said Robin hastily. "We'll
keep right on if it's all the same to you. I'm due at home in--in half
an hour. We lunch very punctually."

"I was particularly anxious for you and Maud to meet under the
conditions that obtained last night," went on Mr. Blithers, with a
regretful look at the log they were passing. "Nothing could have been
more--er--ripping."

"I hear from every one that your daughter is most attractive," said
Robin. "Sorry not to have met her, Mr. Blithers."

"Oh, you'll meet her all right. Prince. She's coming home to-day. I
believe Mrs. Blithers is expecting you to dinner to-night. She--"

"I'm sure there must be some mistake," began Robin, but was cut short.

"I was on my way to Red Roof to ask you and Count Quiddux to give us
this evening in connection with that little affair we are arranging. It
is most imperative that it should be to-night, as my attorney is coming
up for the conference."

"I fear that Mrs. King has planned something--"

Mr. Blithers waved his hand deprecatingly. "I am sure Mrs. King will
let you off when she knows how important it is. As a matter of fact, it
has to be tonight or not at all."

There was a note in his voice that Robin did not like. It savoured of
arrogance.

"I daresay Count Quinnox can attend to all the details, Mr. Blithers. I
have the power of veto, of course, but I shall be guided by the counsel
of my ministers. You need have no hesitancy in dealing with--"

"That's not the point, Prince. I am a business man,--as perhaps you
know. I make it a point never to deal with any one except the head of a
concern, if you'll pardon my way of putting it. It isn't right to speak
of Growstock as a concern, but you'll understand, of course. Figure of
speech."

"I can only assure you, sir, that Graustark is in a position to
indemnify you against any possible chance of loss. You will be amply
secured. I take it that you are not coming to our assistance through
any desire to be philanthropic, but as a business proposition, pure and
simple. At least, that is how we regard the matter. Am I not right?"

"Perfectly," said Mr. Blithers. "I haven't got sixteen millions to
throw away. Still I don't see that that has anything to do with my
request that you be present at the conference to-night. To be perfectly
frank with you, I don't like working in the dark. You have the power of
veto, as you say. Well, if I am to lend Groostork a good many millions
of hard-earned dollars, I certainly don't relish the idea that you may
take it into your head to upset the whole transaction merely because
you have not had the matter presented to you by me instead of by your
cabinet, competent as its members may be. First hand information on any
subject is my notion of simplicity."

"The integrity of the cabinet is not to be questioned, Mr. Blithers.
Its members have never failed Graustark in any--"

"I beg your pardon, Prince," said Mr. Blithers firmly, "but I certainly
suspect that they failed her when they contracted this debt to Russia.
You will forgive me for saying it, but it was the most asinine bit of
short-sightedness I've ever heard of. My office boys could have seen
farther than your honourable ministers."

To his utter amazement, Robin turned a pair of beaming, excited eyes
upon him.

"Do you really mean that, Mr. Blithers?" he cried eagerly.

"I certainly do!"

"By jove, I--I can't tell you how happy I am to hear you say it. You
see it is exactly what John Tullis said from the first. He was bitterly
opposed to the loan. He tried his best to convince the prime minister
that it was inadvisable. I granted him the special privilege of
addressing the full House of Nobles on the question, an honour that no
alien had known up to that time. Of course I was a boy when all this
happened, Mr. Blithers, or I might have put a stop to the--but I'll not
go into that. The House of Nobles went against his judgment and voted
in favour of accepting Russia's loan. Now they realise that dear old
John Tullis was right. Somehow it gratifies me to hear you say that
they were--ahem!--shortsighted."

"What you need in Groostock is a little more good American blood,"
announced Mr. Blithers, pointedly. "If you are going to cope with the
world, you've got to tackle the job with brains and not with that
idiotic thing called faith. There's no such thing in these days as
charity among men, good will, and all that nonsense. Now, you've got a
splendid start in the right direction, Prince. You've got American
blood in your veins and that means a good deal. Take my advice and
increase the proportion. In a couple of generations you'll have
something to brag about. Take Tullis as your example. Beget sons that
will think and act as he is capable of doing. Weed out the thin blood
and give the crown of Grasstick something that is thick and red. It
will be the making of your--"

"I suppose you are advising me to marry an American woman, Mr.
Blithers," said Robin drily.

Mr. Blithers directed a calculating squint into the tree-tops. "I am
simply looking ahead for my own protection, Prince," said he.

"In what respect?"

"Well I am putting a lot of money into the hands of your people. Isn't
it natural that I should look ahead to some extent?"

"But my people are honest. They will pay."

"I understand all that, but at the same time I do not relish the idea
of some day being obliged to squeeze blood from a turnip. Now is the
time for you to think for the future. Your people are honest, I'll
grant. But they also are poor. And why? Because no one has been able to
act for them as your friend Tullis is capable of acting. The day will
come when they will have to settle with me, and will it be any easier
to pay William W. Blithers than it is to pay Russia? Not a bit of it.
As you have said, I am not a philanthropist. I shall exact full and
prompt payment. I prefer to collect from the prosperous, however, and
not from the poor. It goes against the grain. That's why I want to see
you rich and powerful--as well as honest."

"I grant you it is splendid philosophy," said Robin. "But are you not
forgetting that even the best of Americans are sometimes failures when
it comes to laying up treasure?"

"As individuals, yes; but not as a class. You will not deny that we are
the richest people in the world. On the other hand I do not pretend to
say that we are a people of one strain of blood. We represent a mixture
of many strains, but underneath them all runs the full stream that
makes us what we are: Americans. You can't get away from that. Yes, I
_do_ advise you to marry an American girl."

"In other words, I am to make a business of it," said Robin, tolerantly.

"It isn't beyond the range of possibility that you should fall in love
with an American girl, is it? You wouldn't call that making a business
of it, would you?"

"You may rest assured, Mr. Blithers, that I shall marry to please
myself and no one else," said Robin, regarding him with a coldness that
for an instant affected the millionaire uncomfortably.

"Well," said Mr. Blithers, after a moment of hard thinking, "it may
interest you to know that I married for love."

"It _does_ interest me," said Robin. "I am glad that you did."

"I was a comparatively poor man when I married. The girl I married was
well-off in her own right. She had brains as well. We worked together
to lay the foundation for a--well, for the fortune we now possess. A
fortune, I may add, that is to go, every dollar of it, to my daughter.
It represents nearly five hundred million dollars. The greatest king in
the world to-day is poor in comparison to that vast estate. My daughter
will one day be the richest woman in the world."

"Why are you taking the pains to enlighten me as to your daughter's
future, Mr. Blithers?"

"Because I regard you as a sensible young man, Prince."

"Thank you. And I suppose you regard your daughter as a sensible young
woman?"

"Certainly!" exploded Mr. Blithers.

"Well, it seems to me, she will be capable of taking care of her
fortune a great deal more successfully than you imagine, Mr. Blithers.
She will doubtless marry an excellent chap who has the capacity to
increase her fortune, rather than to let it stand at a figure that some
day may be surpassed by the possessions of an ambitious king."

There was fine irony in the Prince's tone but no trace of
offensiveness. Nevertheless, Mr. Blithers turned a shade more purple
than before, and not from the violence of exercise. He was having some
difficulty in controlling his temper. What manner of fool was this
fellow who could sneer at five hundred million dollars? He managed to
choke back something that rose to his lips and very politely remarked:

"I am sure you will like her, Prince. If I do say it myself, she is as
handsome as they grow."

"So I have been told."

"You will see her to-night."

"Really, Mr. Blithers, I cannot--"

"I'll fix it with Mrs. King. Don't you worry."

"May I be pardoned for observing that Mrs. King, greatly as I love her,
is not invested with the power to govern my actions?" said Robin
haughtily.

"And may I be pardoned for suggesting that it is your duty to your
people to completely understand this loan of mine before you agree to
accept it?" said Mr. Blithers, compressing his lips.

"Forgive me, Mr. Blithers, but it is not altogether improbable that
Graustark may secure the money elsewhere."

"It is not only improbable but impossible," said Mr. Blithers flatly.

"Impossible?"

"Absolutely," said the millionaire so significantly that Robin would
have been a dolt not to grasp the situation. Nothing could have been
clearer than the fact that Mr. Blithers believed it to be in his power
to block any effort Graustark might make in other directions to secure
the much-needed money.

"Will you come to the point, Mr. Blithers?" said the young Prince,
stopping abruptly in the middle of the road and facing his companion.
"What are you trying to get at?"

Mr. Blithers was not long in getting to the point. In the first place,
he was hot and tired and his shoes were hurting; in the second place,
he felt that he knew precisely how to handle these money-seeking scions
of nobility. He planted himself squarely in front of the Prince and
jammed his hands deep into his coat pockets.

"The day my daughter is married to the man of my choice, I will hand
over to that man exactly twenty million dollars," he said slowly,
impressively.

"Yes, go on."

"The sole object I have in life is to see my girl happy and at the same
time at the top of the heap. She is worthy of any man's love. She is as
good as gold. She--"

"The point is this, then: You would like to have me for a son-in-law."

"Yes," said Mr. Blithers.

Robin grinned. He was amused in spite of himself. "You take it for
granted that I can be bought?"

"I have not made any such statement."

"And how much will you hand over to the man of _her_ choice when she
marries him?" enquired the young man.

"You will be her choice," said the other, without the quiver of an
eye-lash.

"How can you be sure of that? Has she no mind of her own?"

"It isn't incomprehensible that she should fall in love with you, is
it?"

"It might be possible, of course, provided she is not already in love
with some one else."

Mr. Blithers started. "Have you heard any one say that--but, that's
nonsense! She's not in love with any one, take it from me. And just to
show you how fair I am to her--and to you--I'll stake my head you fall
in love with each other before you've been together a week."

"But we're not going to be together for a week."

"I should have said before you've known each other a week. You will
find--"

"Just a moment, please. We can cut all this very short, and go about
our business. I've never seen your daughter, nor, to my knowledge, has
she ever laid eyes on me. From what I've heard of her, she _has_ a mind
of her own. You will not be able to force her into a marriage that
doesn't appeal to her, and you may be quite sure, Mr. Blithers, that
you can't force me into one. I do not want you to feel that I have a
single disparaging thought concerning Miss Blithers. It is possible
that I could fall in love with her inside of a week, or even sooner.
But I don't intend to, Mr. Blithers, any more than she intends to fall
in love with me. You say that twenty millions will go to the man she
marries, if he is your choice. Well, I don't give a hang, sir, if you
make it fifty millions. The chap who gets it will not be me, so what's
the odds? You--"

"Wait a minute, young man," said Mr. Blithers coolly. (He was never
anything but cool when under fire.) "Why not wait until you have met my
daughter before making a statement like that? After all, am I not the
one who is taking chances? Well, I'm willing to risk my girl's
happiness with you and that's saying everything when you come right
down to it. She will make you happy in--"

[Illustration: "You will be her choice," said the other, without the
quiver of an eye-lash ]

"I am not for sale. Mr. Blithers," said Robin abruptly. "Good morning."
He turned into the wood and was sauntering away with his chin high in
the air when Mr. Blithers called out to him from behind.

"I shall expect you to-night, just the same."

Robin halted, amazed by the man's assurance. He retraced his steps to
the roadside.

"Will you pardon a slight feeling of curiosity on my part, Mr.
Blithers, if I ask whether your daughter consents to the arrangement
you propose. Does she approve of the scheme?"

Mr. Blithers was honest. "No, she doesn't," he said succinctly. "At
least, not at present. I'll be honest with you. She stayed away from
the ball last night simply because she did not want to meet you. That's
the kind of a girl _she_ is."

"By jove, I take off my hat to her," cried Robin. "She is a brick,
after all. Take it from me, Mr. Blithers, you will not be able to hand
over twenty millions without her consent. I believe that I should enjoy
meeting her, now that I come to think of it. It would be a pleasure to
exchange confidences with a girl of that sort."

Mr. Blithers betrayed agitation. "See here, Prince, I don't want her to
know that I've said anything to you about this matter," he said,
unconsciously lowering his voice as if fearing that Maud might be
somewhere within hearing distance. "This is between you and me. Don't
breathe a word of it to her. 'Gad, she'd--she'd skin me alive!" At the
very thought of it, he wiped his forehead with unusual vigour.

Robin laughed heartily. "Rest easy, Mr. Blithers. I shall not even
think of your proposition again, much less speak of it."

"Come now, Prince; wait until you've seen her. I know you'll get on
famously--"

"I should like her to know that I consider her a brick, Mr. Blithers.
Is it too much to ask of you? Just tell her that I think she's a brick."

"Tell her yourself," growled Mr. Blithers, looking very black. "You
will see her this evening," he added levelly.

"Shall I instruct your chauffeur to come for you up here or will you
walk back to--"

"I'll walk to Red Roof," said Mr. Blithers doggedly. "I'm going to ask
Mrs. King to let you off for to-night."




CHAPTER VII

A LETTER FROM MAUD


Mr. Blithers, triumphant, left Red Roof shortly after luncheon; Mr.
Blithers, dismayed, arrived at Blitherwood a quarter of an hour later.
He had had his way with Robin, who, after all, was coming to dinner
that evening with Count Quinnox. The Prince, after a few words in
private with the Count, changed his mind and accepted Mr. Blithers'
invitation with a liveliness that was mistaken for eagerness by that
gentleman, who had made very short work of subduing Mrs. King when she
tried to tell him that her own dinner-party would be ruined if the
principal guest defaulted. He was gloating over his victory up to the
instant he reached his own lodge gates. There dismay sat patiently
waiting for him in the shape of a messenger from the local telegraph
office in the village below. He had seen Mr. Blithers approaching in
the distance, and, with an astuteness that argued well for his future
success in life, calmly sat down to wait instead of pedaling his
decrepit bicycle up the long slope to the villa.

He delivered a telegram and kindly vouchsafed the information that it
was from New York.

Mr. Blithers experienced a queer sinking of the heart as he gazed at
the envelope. Something warned him that if he opened it in the presence
of the messenger he would say something that a young boy ought not to
hear.

"It's from Maud," said the obliging boy, beaming good-nature. It cost
him a quarter, that bit of gentility, for Mr. Blithers at once said
something that a messenger boy ought to hear, and ordered Jackson to go
ahead.

It was from Maud and it said: "I shall stay in town a few days longer.
It is delightfully cool here. Dear old Miranda is at the Ritz with me
and we are having a fine spree. Don't worry about money. I find I have
a staggering balance in the bank. The cashier showed me where I had
made a mistake in subtraction of an even ten thousand. I was amazed to
find what a big difference a little figure makes. Have made no definite
plans but will write Mother to-night. Please give my love to the
Prince. Have you seen to-day's _Town Truth_? Or worse, has he seen it?
Your loving daughter, Maud."

The butler was sure it was apoplexy, but the chauffeur, out of a wide
experience, announced, behind his hand, that he would be all right the
instant the words ceased to stick in his throat. And he was right. Mr.
Blithers _was_ all right. Not even the chauffeur had seen him when he
was more so.

A little later on, after he had cooled off to a quite considerable
extent, Mr. Blithers lighted a cigar and sat down in the hall outside
his wife's bed-chamber door. She was having her beauty nap. Not even he
possessed the temerity to break in upon that. He sat and listened for
the first sound that would indicate the appeasement of beauty,
occasionally hitching his chair a trifle nearer to the door in the
agony of impatience. By the time Jackson returned from the village with
word that a copy of _Town Truth_ was not to be had until the next day,
he was so close to the door that if any one had happened to stick a hat
pin through the keyhole at precisely the right instant it would have
punctured his left ear with appalling results.

"What are we going to do about it?" he demanded three minutes after
entering the chamber. His wife was prostrate on the luxurious couch
from which she had failed to arise when he burst in upon her with the
telegram in his hand.

"Oh, the foolish child," she moaned. "If she only knew how adorable he
is she wouldn't be acting in this perfectly absurd manner. Every girl
who was here last night is madly in love with him. Why must Maud be so
obstinate?"

Mr. Blithers was very careful not to mention his roadside experience
with the Prince, and you may be sure that he said nothing about his
proposition to the young man. He merely declared, with a vast
bitterness in his soul, that the Prince was coming to dinner, but what
the deuce was the use?

"She ought to be soundly--spoken to," said he, breaking the sentence
with a hasty gulp. "Now, Lou, there's just one thing to do. I must go
to New York on the midnight train and get her. That woman was all right
as a tutor, but hanged if I like to see a daughter of mine traipsing
around New York with a school teacher. She--"

"You forget that she has retired on a competence. She is not in active
employment. Will. You forget that she is one of the Van Valkens."

"There you go, talking about good old families again. Why is it that so
blamed many of your fine old blue stockings are hunting jobs--"

"Now don't be vulgar, Will," she cut in. "Maud is quite safe with
Miranda, and you know it perfectly well, so don't talk like that. I
think it would be a fearful mistake for you to go to New York. She
would never forgive you and, what is more to the point, she wouldn't
budge a step if you tried to bully her into coming home with you. You
know it quite as well as I do."

He groaned. "Give me a chance to think, Lou. Just half a chance, that's
all I ask. I'll work out some--"

"Wait until her letter comes. We'll see what she has to say. Perhaps
she intends coming home tomorrow, who can tell? This may be a pose on
her part. Give her free rein and she will not pull against the bit. It
may surprise her into doing the sensible thing if we calmly ignore her
altogether. I've been thinking it over, and I've come to the conclusion
that we'll be doing the wisest thing in the world if we pay absolutely
no attention to her."

"By George, I believe you've hit it, Lou! She'll be looking for a
letter or telegram from me and she'll not receive a word, eh? She'll be
expecting us to beg her to come back and all the while we just sit
tight and say not a word. We'll fool her, by thunder. By to-morrow
afternoon she'll be so curious to know what's got into us that she'll
come home on a run. You're right. It takes a thief to catch a
thief,--which is another way of saying that it takes a woman to
understand a woman. We'll sit tight and let Maud worry for a day or
two. It will do her good."

Maud's continued absence was explained to Prince Robin that evening,
not by the volcanic Mr. Blithers but by his practised and adroit
better-half who had no compunction in ascribing it to the alarming
condition of a very dear friend in New York,--one of the Van Valkens,
you know.

"Maud is so tender-hearted, so loyal, so really sweet about her
friends, that nothing in the world could have induced her to leave this
dear friend, don't you know."

"I am extremely sorry not to have met your daughter," said Robin very
politely.

"Oh, but she will be here in a day or two, Prince."

"Unfortunately, we are leaving to-morrow, Mrs. Blithers."

"To-morrow?" murmured Mrs. Blithers, aghast.

"I received a cablegram to-day advising me to return to Edelweiss at
once. We are obliged to cut short a very charming visit with Mr. and
Mrs. King and to give up the trip to Washington. Lieutenant Dank left
for New York this afternoon to exchange our reservations for the first
ship that we can--"

"What's this?" demanded Mr. Blithers, abruptly withdrawing his
attention from Count Quinnox who was in the middle of a sentence when
the interruption came. They were on the point of going out to dinner.
"What's this?"

"The Prince says that he is leaving to-morrow--"

"Nonsense!" exploded Mr. Blithers, with no effort toward geniality. "He
doesn't mean it. Why,--why, we haven't signed a single agreement--"

"Fortunately it isn't necessary for me to sign anything, Mr. Blithers,"
broke in Robin hastily. "The papers are to be signed by the Minister of
Finance, and afterwards my signature is attached in approval. Isn't
that true, Count Quinnox?"

"I daresay Mr. Blithers understands the situation perfectly," said the
Count.

Mr. Blithers looked blank. He _did_ understand the situation, that was
the worst of it. He knew that although the cabinet had sanctioned the
loan by cable, completing the transaction so far as it could be
completed at this time, it was still necessary for the Minister of
Finance to sign the agreement under the royal seal of Graustark.

"Of course I understand it," he said bluntly. "Still I had it in mind
to ask the Prince to put his signature to a sort of preliminary
document which would at least assure me that he would sign the final
agreement when the time comes. That's only fair, isn't it?"

"Quite fair, Mr. Blithers. The Prince will sign such an article
to-morrow or the next day at your office in the city. Pray have no
uneasiness, sir. It shall be as you wish. By the way, I understood that
your solicitor--your lawyer, I should say,--was to be here this
evening. It had occurred to me that he might draw up the statement,--if
Mrs. Blithers will forgive us in our haste--"

"He couldn't get here," said Mr. Blithers, and no more. He was thinking
too intently of something more important. "What's turned up?"

"Turned up, Mr. Blithers?"

"Yes--in Groostock. What's taking you off in such a hurry?"

"The Prince has been away for nearly six months," said the Count, as if
that explained everything.

"Was it necessary to cable for him to come home?" persisted the
financier.

"Graustark and Dawsbergen are endeavouring to form an alliance, Mr.
Blithers, and Prince Robin's presence at the capitol is very much to be
desired in connection with the project."

"What kind of an alliance?"

The Count looked bored. "An alliance prescribed for the general
improvement of the two races, I should say, Mr. Blithers." He smiled.
"It would in no way impair the credit of Graustark, however. It is what
you might really describe as a family secret, if you will pardon my
flippancy."

The butler announced dinner.

"Wait for a couple of days. Prince, and I'll send you down to New York
by special train," said Mr. Blithers.

"Thank you. It is splendid of you. I daresay everything will depend on
Dank's success in--"

"Crawford," said Mr. Blithers to the butler, "ask Mr. Davis to look up
the sailings for next week and let me know at once, will you?" Turning
to the Prince, he went on: "We can wire down to-night and engage
passage for next week. Davis is my secretary. I'll have him attend to
everything. And now let's forget our troubles."

A great deal was said by her parents about Maud's unfortunate detention
in the city. Both of them were decidedly upset by the sudden change in
the Prince's plans. Once under pretext of whispering to Crawford about
the wine, Mr. Blithers succeeded in transmitting a question to his
wife. She shook her head in reply, and he sighed audibly. He had asked
if she thought he'd better take the midnight train.

Mr. Davis found that there were a dozen ships sailing the next week,
but nothing came of it, for the Prince resolutely declared he would be
obliged to take the first available steamer.

"We shall go down to-morrow," he said, and even Mr. Blithers subsided.
He looked to his wife in desperation. She failed him for the first time
in her life. Her eyes were absolutely messageless.

"I'll go down with you," he said, and then gave his wife a look of
defiance.

The next morning brought Maud's letter to her mother. It said: "Dearest
Mother: I enclose the cutting from _Town Truth_. You may see for
yourself what a sickening thing it is. The whole world knows by this
time that the ball was a joke--a horrible joke. Everybody knows that
you are trying to hand me over to Prince Robin neatly wrapped up in
bank notes. And everybody knows that he is laughing at us, and he isn't
alone in his mirth either. What must the Truxton Kings think of us? I
can't bear the thought of meeting that pretty, clever woman face to
face. I know I should die of mortification, for, of course, she must
believe that I am dying to marry anything on earth that has a title and
a pair of legs. Somehow I don't blame you and dad. You really love me,
I know, and you want to give me the best that the world affords. But
why, oh why, can't you let me choose for myself? I don't object to
having a title, but I do object to having a husband that I don't want
and who certainly could not, by any chance, want me. You think that I
am in love with Channie Scoville. Well, I'm not. I am very fond of him,
that's all, and if it came to a pinch I would marry him in preference
to any prince on the globe. To-day I met a couple of girls who were at
the ball. They told me that the Prince is adorable. They are really
quite mad about him, and one of them had the nerve to ask what it was
going to cost dad to land him. _Town Truth_ says he is to cost ten
millions! Well, you may just tell dad that I'll help him to practice
economy. He needn't pay a nickle for my husband--when I get him. The
world is small. It may be that I shall come upon this same Prince
Charming some place before it is too late, and fall in love with him
all of a heap. Loads of silly girls do fall in love with fairy princes,
and I'm just as silly as the rest of them. Ever since I was a little
kiddie I've dreamed of marrying a real, lace-and-gold Prince, the kind
Miranda used to read about in the story books. But I also dreamed that
he loved me. There's the rub, you see. How could any prince love a girl
who set out to buy him with a lot of silly millions? It's not to be
expected. I know it is done in the best society, but I should want my
prince to be happy instead of merely comfortable. I should want both of
us to live happy ever afterwards.

"So, dearest mother, I am going abroad to forget. Miranda is going with
me and we sail next Saturday on the _Jupiter_ I think. We haven't got
our suite, but Mr. Bliss says he is sure he can arrange it for me. If
we can't get one on the _Jupiter_, we'll take some other boat that is
just as inconspicuous. You see, I want to go on a ship that isn't
likely to be packed with people I know, for it is my intention to
travel incog, as they say in the books. No one shall stare at me and
say: 'There is that Maud Blithers we were reading about in _Town
Truth_--and all the other papers this week. Her father is going to buy
a prince for her.'

"I know dad will be perfectly furious, but I'm going or die, one or the
other. Now it won't do a bit of good to try to stop me, dearest. The
best thing for you and dad to do is to come down at once and say
goodbye to me--but you are not to go to the steamer! Never! Please,
please come, for I love you both and I do so want you to love me. Come
to-morrow and kiss your horrid, horrid, disappointing, loathsome
daughter--and forgive her, too."

Mr. Blithers was equal to the occasion. His varying emotions manifested
themselves with peculiar vividness during the reading of the letter by
his tearful wife. At the outset he was frankly humble and contrite; he
felt bitterly aggrieved over the unhappy position in which they
innocently had placed their cherished idol. Then came the deep breath
of relief over the apparent casting away of young Scoville, followed by
an angry snort when Maud repeated the remark of her girl friend. His
dismay was pathetic while Mrs. Blithers was fairly gasping out Maud's
determination to go abroad, but before she reached the concluding
sentences of the extraordinary missive, he was himself again. As a
matter of fact, he was almost jubilant. He slapped his knee with
resounding force and uttered an ejaculation that caused his wife to
stare at him as if the very worst had happened: he was a chuckling
lunatic!

"Immense!" he exclaimed. "Immense!"

"Oh, Will!" she sobbed.

"Nothing could be better! Luck is with me, Lou. It always is."

"In heaven's name, what are you saying, Will?"

"Great Scott, can't you see? He goes abroad, she goes abroad. See? Same
ship. See what I mean? Nothing could be finer. They--"

"But I do not want my child to go abroad," wailed the unhappy mother.
"I cannot bear--"

"Stuff and nonsense! Brace up! Grasp the romance. Both of 'em sailing
under assumed names. They see each other on deck. Mutual attraction.
Love at first sight. Both of 'em. Money no object. There you are. Leave
it to me."

"Maud is not the kind of girl to take up with a stranger on board--"

"Don't glare at me like that! Love finds the way, it doesn't matter
what kind of a girl she is. But listen to me, Lou; we've got to be
mighty careful that Maud doesn't suspect that we're putting up a job on
her. She'd balk at the gang-plank and that would be the end of it. She
must not know that he is on board. Now, here's the idea," and he talked
on in a strangely subdued voice for fifteen minutes, his enthusiasm
mounting to such heights that she was fairly lifted to the seventh
heaven he produced, and, for once in her life, she actually submitted
to his bumptious argument without so much as a single protesting word.

The down train at two-seventeen had on board a most distinguished group
of passengers, according to the Pullman conductor whose skilful
conniving resulted in the banishment of a few unimportant creatures who
had paid for chairs in the observation coach but who had to get out,
whether or no, when Mr. Blithers loudly said it was a nuisance having
everything on the shady side of the car taken "on a hot day like this."
He surreptitiously informed the conductor that there was a prince in
his party, and that highly impressed official at once informed ten
other passengers that they had no business in a private car and would
have to move up to the car ahead--and rather quickly at that.

The Prince announced that Lieutenant Dank had secured comfortable
cabins on a steamer sailing Saturday, but he did not feel at liberty to
mention the name of the boat owing to his determination to avoid
newspaper men, who no doubt would move heaven and earth for an
interview, now that he had become a person of so much importance in the
social world. Indeed, his indentity was to be more completely obscured
than at any time since he landed on American soil. He thanked Mr.
Blithers for his offer to command the "royal suite" on the _Jupiter_,
but declined, volunteering the somewhat curt remark that it was his
earnest desire to keep as far away from royalty as possible on the
voyage over. (A remark that Mr. Blithers couldn't quite fathom, then or
afterward.)

Mrs. Blithers' retort to her husband's shocked comment on the
un-princely appearance of the young man and the wofully ordinary suit
of clothes worn by the Count, was sufficiently caustic, and he was
silenced--and convinced. Neither of the distinguished foreigners looked
the part of a nobleman.

"I wouldn't talk about clothes if I were you," Mrs. Blithers had said
on the station platform. "Who would suspect you of being one of the
richest men in America?" She sent a disdainful glance at his baggy
knees and bulging coat pockets, and for the moment he shrank into the
state of being one of the poorest men in America.

They were surprised and not a little perplexed by the fact that the
Prince and his companion arrived at the station quite alone. Neither of
the Kings accompanied them. There was, Mrs. Blithers admitted, food for
thought in this peculiar omission on the part of the Prince's late host
and hostess, and she would have given a great deal to know what was
back of it. The "luggage" was attended to by the admirable Hobbs, there
being no sign of a Red Roof servant about the place. Moreover, there
seemed to be considerable uneasiness noticeable in the manner of the
two foreigners. They appeared to be unnecessarily impatient for the
train to arrive, looking at their watches now and again, and frequently
sending sharp glances down the village street in the direction of Red
Roof. Blithers afterwards remarked that they made him think of a couple
of absconding cashiers. The mystery, however, was never explained.

Arriving at the Grand Central Terminal, Prince Robin and the Count made
off in a taxi-cab, smilingly declining to reveal their hotel
destination.

"But where am I to send my attorney with the agreement you are to sign,
Prince?" asked Mr. Blithers, plainly irritated by the young man's
obstinacy in declining to be "dropped" at his hotel by the Blithers
motor.

"I shall come to your office at eleven to-morrow morning, Mr.
Blithers," said Robin, his hat in his hand. He had bowed very deeply to
Mrs. Blithers.

"But that's not right," blustered the financier. "A prince of royal
blood hadn't ought to visit a money-grubber's office. It's not--"

"_Noblesse oblige_," said Robin, with his hand on his heart. "It has
been a pleasure to know you, Mrs. Blithers. I trust we may meet again.
If you should ever come to Graustark, please consider that the castle
is yours--as you hospitable Americans would say."

"We surely will," said Mrs. Blithers. Both the Prince and Count Quinnox
bowed very profoundly, and did not smile.

"And it will be ours," added Mr. Blithers, more to himself than to his
wife as the two tall figures moved off with the throng. Then to his
wife: "Now to find out what ship they're sailing on. I'll fix it so
they'll _have_ to take the _Jupiter_, whether they want to or not."

"Wouldn't it be wisdom to find out what ship Maud is sailing on, Will?
It seems to me that she is the real problem."

"Right you are!" said he instantly. "I must be getting dotty in my old
age, Lou."

They were nearing the Ritz when she broke a prolonged period of
abstraction by suddenly inquiring: "What did you mean when you said to
him on the train: 'Better think it over, Prince,' and what did he mean
by the insolent grin he gave you in reply?"

Mr. Blithers looked straight ahead.

"Business," said he, answering the first question but not the last.




CHAPTER VIII

ON BOARD THE "JUPITER"


A grey day at sea. The _Jupiter_ seemed to be slinking through the mist
and drizzle, so still was the world of waters. The ocean was as smooth
as a mill pond; the reflected sky came down bleak and drab and no wind
was stirring. The rush of the ship through the glassy, sullen sea
produced a fictitious gale across the decks; aside from that there was
dead calm ahead and behind.

A threat seemed to lurk in the smooth, oily face of the Atlantic. Far
ahead stretched the grey barricade that seemed to mark the spot where
the voyage was to end. There was no going beyond that clear-cut line.
When the ship came up to it, there would be no more water beyond;
naught but a vast space into which the vessel must topple and go on
falling to the end of time. The great sirens were silent, for the fog
of the night before had lifted, laying bare a desolate plain. The ship
was sliding into oblivion, magnificently indifferent to the catastrophe
that awaited its arrival at the edge of the universe. And she was
sailing the sea alone. All other ships had passed over that sinister
line and were plunging toward a bottom that would never be reached, so
long is eternity.

The decks of the _Jupiter_ were wet with the almost invisible drizzle
that filled the air, yet they were swarming with the busy pedestrians
who never lose an opportunity to let every one know that they are on
board. No ship's company is complete without its leg-stretchers. They
who never walk a block on dry land without complaining, right manfully
lop off miles when walking on the water, and get to be known--at least
visually--to the entire first cabin before they have paraded half way
across the Atlantic. (There was once a man who had the strutting
disease so badly that he literally walked from Sandy Hook to Gaunt's
Rock, but, who, on getting to London, refused to walk from the Savoy to
the Cecil because of a weak heart.) The worst feature about these
inveterate water-walkers is that they tread quite as proudly upon other
people's feet as they do upon their own, and as often as not they
appear to do it from choice. Still, that is another story. It has
nothing to do with the one we are trying to tell.

To resume, the decks of the _Jupiter_ were wet and the sky was drab.
New York was twenty-four hours astern and the brief Sunday service had
come to a peaceful end. It died just in time to escape the horrors of a
popular programme by the band amidships. The echo of the last amen was
a resounding thump on the big bass drum.

Three tall, interesting looking men stood leaning against the starboard
rail of the promenade deck, unmindful of the mist, watching the
scurrying throng of exercise fiends. Two were young, the third was old,
and of the three there was one who merited the second glance that
invariably was bestowed upon him by the circling passers-by. Each
succeeding revolution increased the interest and admiration and people
soon began to favour him with frankly unabashed stares and smiles that
could not have been mistaken for anything but tribute to his extreme
good looks.

He stood between the gaunt, soldierly old man with the fierce
moustache, and the trim, military young man with one that was close
cropped and smart. Each wore a blue serge suit and affected a short
visored cap of the same material, and each lazily puffed at a very
commonplace briar pipe. They in turn were watching the sprightly parade
with an interest that was calmly impersonal. They saw no one person who
deserved more than a casual glance, and yet the motley crowd passed
before them, apparently without end, as if expecting a responsive smile
of recognition from the tall young fellow to whom it paid the honest
tribute of curiosity.

The customary he-gossip and perennial snooper who is always making the
voyage no matter what ship one takes or the direction one goes, nosed
out the purser and discovered that the young man was R. Schmidt of
Vienna. He was busy thereafter mixing with the throng, volunteering
information that had not been solicited but which appeared to be
welcome. Especially were the young women on board grateful to the
he-gossip, when he accosted them as a perfect stranger to tell them the
name of another and even more perfect stranger.

"Evidently an Austrian army officer," he always proclaimed, and that
seemed to settle it.

Luckily he did not overhear R. Schmidt's impassive estimate of the
first cabin parade, or he might have had something to repeat that would
not have pleased those who took part in it.

"Queer looking lot of people," said R. Schmidt, and his two companions
moodily nodded their heads.

"I am sorry we lost those rooms on the _Salammbo_," said the younger of
his two companions. "I had them positively engaged, money paid down."

"Some one else came along with more money, Dank," observed R. Schmidt.
"We ought to be thankful that we received anything at all. Has it
occurred to you that this boat isn't crowded?"

"Not more than half full," said the older man. "All of the others
appeared to be packed from hold to funnel. This must be an unpopular
boat."

"I don't know where we'd be, however, if Mr. Blithers hadn't thought of
the _Jupiter_ almost at the last minute," said R. Schmidt.

"Nine day boat, though," growled the old man.

"I don't mind that in the least. She's a steady old tub and that's
something."

"Hobbs tells me that it is most extraordinary to find the east bound
steamers crowded at this season of the year," said Dank. "He can't
understand it at all. The crowds go over in June and July and by this
time they should be starting for home. I thought we'd have no
difficulty in getting on any one of the big boats, but, by jove,
everywhere I went they said they were full up."

"It was uncommonly decent of Blithers not coming down to see us off,"
said the elderly man, who was down on the passenger list as Totten. "I
was apprehensive, 'pon my soul. He stuck like a leech up to the last
minute."

R. Schmidt was reflecting. "It struck me as queer that he had not heard
of the transfer of our securities in London."

"I cannot understand Bernstein & Sons selling out at a time when the
price of our bonds is considerably below their actual value," said
Totten, frowning. "A million pounds sterling is what their holdings
really represented; according to the despatches they must have sold at
a loss of nearly fifty thousand pounds. It is unbelievable that the
house can be hard-pressed for money. There isn't a sounder concern in
Europe than Bernstein's."

"We should have a Marconi-gram to-night or tomorrow in regard to the
bid made in Paris for the bonds held by the French syndicate," said
Dank, pulling at his short moustache. "Mr. Blithers is investigating."

"There is something sinister in all this," said R. Schmidt. "Who is
buying up all of the out-standing bonds and what is behind the
movement? London has sold all that were held there and Paris is
approached on the same day. If Paris and Berlin should sell, nearly
four million pounds in Graustark bonds will be in the hands of people
whose identity and motives appear to be shrouded in the deepest
mystery."

"And four million pounds represents the entire amount of our bonds held
by outside parties," said Totten, with a significant shake of his
grizzled head. "The remainder are in the possession of our own
institutions and the people themselves. We should hear from Edelweiss,
too, in response to my cablegram. Perhaps Romano may be able to throw
light on the situation. I confess that I am troubled."

"Russia would have no object in buying up our general bonds, would
she?" inquired R. Schmidt.

"None whatever. She would have nothing to gain. Mr. Blithers assured me
that he was not in the least apprehensive. In fact, he declared that
Russia would not be buying bonds that do not mature for twelve years to
come. There must be some private--eh?"

A steward was politely accosting the trio.

"I beg pardon, is this Mr. Totten?"

"Yes."

"Message for you, sir, at the purser's."

"Bring it to my stateroom, Totten," said R. Schmidt briefly, and the
old man hurried away on the heels of the messenger.

The two young men sauntered carelessly in an opposite direction and
soon disappeared from the deck. A few minutes later, Totten entered the
luxurious parlour of R. Schmidt and laid an unopened wireless message
on the table at the young man's elbow.

"Open it, Totten."

The old man slit the envelope and glanced at the contents. He nodded
his head in answer to an unspoken question.

"Sold?" asked R. Schmidt.

"Paris and Berlin, both of them, Prince. Every bond has been gobbled
up."

"Does he mention the name of the buyer?"

"Only by the use of the personal pronoun. He says--'I have taken over
the Paris and Berlin holdings. All is well.' It is signed 'B.' So! Now
we know."

"By jove!" fell from the lips of both men, and then the three
Graustarkians stared in speechless amazement at each other for the
space of a minute before another word was spoken.

"Blithers!" exclaimed Dank, sinking back into his chair.

"Blithers," repeated Totten, but with an entirely different inflection.
The word was conviction itself as he pronounced it.

R. Schmidt indulged in a wry little smile. "It amounts to nearly twenty
million dollars, Count. That's a great deal of money to spend in the
pursuit of an idle whim."

"Humph!" grunted the old Count, and then favoured the sunny-faced
Prince with a singularly sharp glance. "Of course, you understand his
game?"

"Perfectly. It's as clear as day. He intends to be the crown
father-in-law. I suppose he will expect Graustark to establish an Order
of Royal Grandfathers."

"It may prove to be no jest, Robin," said the Count seriously.

"My dear Quinnox, don't look so sad," cried the Prince. "He may have
money enough to buy Graustark but he hasn't enough to buy grandchildren
that won't grow, you know. He is counting chickens before they're
hatched, which isn't a good business principle, I'd have you to know."

"What was it he said to you at Red Roof?"

"That was nothing. Pure bluster."

"He said he had never set his heart on anything that he didn't get in
the end, wasn't that it?"

"I think so. Something of the sort. I took it as a joke."

"Well, I took it as a threat."

"A threat?"

"A pleasant, agreeable threat, of course. He has set his heart on
having the crown of Graustark worn by a Blithers. That is the long and
short of it."

"I believe he did say to me in the woods that day that he could put his
daughter on any throne in Europe if he set his mind to the job," said
the Prince carelessly. "But you see, the old gentleman is not counting
on two very serious sources of opposition when it comes to this
particular case. There is Maud, you see,--and me."

"I am not so sure of the young lady," said the Count sententiously.
"The opposition may falter a bit there, and half of his battle is won."

"You seem to forget, Quinnox, that such a marriage is utterly
impossible," said the Prince coldly, "Do you imagine that I would
marry--"

"Pardon me, highness, I said _half_ the battle would be won. I do
contemplate a surrender on your part. You are a very pig-headed young
man. The most pig-headed I've ever known, if you will forgive me for
expressing myself so--"

"You've said it a hundred times," laughed the Prince, good-naturedly.
"Don't apologise. Not only you but the entire House of Nobles have
characterised me as pig-headed and I have never even thought of
resenting it, so it must be that I believe it to be true."

"We have never voiced the opinion, highness, except in reference to our
own great desire to bring about the union between our beloved ruler and
the Crown Princess of--"

"So," interrupted R. Schmidt, "it ought to be very clear to you that if
I will not marry to please my loyal, devoted cabinet I certainly shall
not marry to please William W. Blithers. No doubt the excellent Maud is
a most desirable person. In any event, she has a mind of her own. I
confess that I am sorry to have missed seeing her. We might have got on
famously together, seeing that our point of view is apparently unique
in this day and age of the world, No, my good friends, Mr. Blithers is
making a poor investment. He will not get the return for his money that
he is expecting. If it pleases him to buy our securities, all well and
good. He shall lose nothing in the end. But he will find that Graustark
is not a toy, nor the people puppets. More than all that, I am not a
bargain sale prince with Christmas tree aspirations, but a very
unamiable devil who cultivates an ambition to throw stones at the
conventions. Not only do I intend to choose my wife but also the court
grandfather. And now let us forget the folly of Mr. Blithers and
discuss his methods of business. What does he expect to gain by this
extraordinary investment?"

Count Quinnox looked at him rather pityingly. "It appears to be his way
of pulling the strings, my boy. He has loaned us something like sixteen
millions of dollars. We have agreed to deposit our public service bonds
as security against the loan, so that practically equalises the
situation. It becomes a purely business transaction. But he sees far
ahead. This loan of his matures at practically the same time that our
first series of government bonds are due for payment. It will be
extremely difficult for a small country, such as Graustark, to raise
nearly forty millions of dollars in, say ten years. The European
syndicates undoubtedly would be willing to renew the loan under a new
issue--I think it is called refunding, or something of the sort. But
Mr. Blithers will be in a position to say no to any such arrangement.
He holds the whip hand and--"

"But, my dear Count," interrupted the Prince, "what if he does hold it?
Does he expect to wait ten years before exercising his power? You
forget that marriage is his ambition. Isn't he taking a desperate risk
in assuming that I will not marry before the ten years are up? And, for
that matter, his daughter may decide to wed some other chap who--"

"That's just the point," said Quinnox. "He is arranging it so that you
_can't_ marry without his consent."

"The deuce you say!"

"I am not saying that he can carry out his design, my dear boy, but it
is his secret hope, just the same. So far as Graustark is concerned,
she will stand by you no matter what betides. As you know, there is
nothing so dear to our hearts as the proposed union of Dawsbergen's
Crown Princess and--"

"That's utterly out of the question, Count," said the Prince, setting
his jaws.

The count sighed patiently. "So you say, my boy, so you say. But you
are not reasonable. How can you know that the Crown Princess of
Dawsbergen is not the very mate your soul has been craving--"

"That's not the point. I am opposed to this miserable custom of giving
in marriage without the consent of the people most vitally concerned,
and I shall never recede from my position."

"You are very young, my dear Prince."

"And I intend to remain young, my dear Count. Loveless marriages make
old men and women of youths and maidens. I remember thinking that
remark out for myself after a great deal of effort, and you may
remember that I sprung it with considerable effect on the cabinet when
the matter was formally discussed a year or two ago. You heard about
it, didn't you, Dank?"

"I did, highness."

"And every newspaper in the world printed it as coming from me, didn't
they? Well, there you are. I can't go behind my publicly avowed
principles."

The young fellow stretched his long body in a sort of luxurious
defiance, and eyed his companions somewhat combatively.

"Sounds very well," growled the Count, with scant reverence for
royalty, being a privileged person.

"Now, Dank here can marry any one he likes--if she'll have him--and he
is only a lieutenant of the guard. Why should I,--prince royal and
master of all he surveys, so to speak,--why should I be denied a
privilege enjoyed by every good-looking soldier who carries a sword in
my army--_my_ army, do you understand? I leave it to you, Dank, is it
fair? Who are you that you should presume to think of a happy marriage
while I, your Prince, am obliged to twiddle my thumbs and say 'all
right, bring any old thing along and I'll marry her'? Who are you,
Dank, that's what I'd like to know."

His humour was so high-handed that the two soldiers laughed and Dank
ruefully admitted that he was a lucky dog.

"You shall not marry into the Blithers family, my lad, if we can help
it," said the Count, pulling at his moustaches.

"I should say not!" said Dank, feeling for his.

"I should as soon marry a daughter of Hobbs," said R. Schmidt, getting
up from his chair with restored sprightliness. "If he had one, I mean."

"The bonds of matrimony and the bonds of government are by no means
synonymous," said Dank, and felt rather proud of himself when his
companions favoured him with a stare of amazement. The excellent
lieutenant was not given to persiflage. He felt that for a moment he
had scintillated.

"Shall we send a wireless to Blithers congratulating him on his coup?"
enquired the Prince gaily.

"No," said the Count. "Congratulating ourselves on his coup is better."

"Good! And you might add that we also are trusting to luck. It may give
him something to think about. And now where is Hobbs?" said royalty.

"Here, sir," said Hobbs, appearing in the bed-room door, but not
unexpectedly. "I heard wot you said about my daughter, sir. It may set
your mind at rest, sir, to hear that I am childless."

"Thank you, Hobbs. You are always thinking of my comfort. You may order
luncheon for us in the Ritz restaurant. The head steward has been
instructed to reserve the corner table for the whole voyage."

"The 'ead waiter, sir," corrected Hobbs politely, and was gone.

In three minutes he was back with the information that two ladies had
taken the table and refused to be dislodged, although the head waiter
had vainly tried to convince them that it was reserved for the passage
by R. Schmidt and party.

"I am quite sure, sir, he put it to them very hagreeably and politely,
but the young lady gave 'im the 'aughtiest look I've ever seen on
mortal fice, sir, and he came back to me so 'umble that I could 'ardly
believe he was an 'ead waiter."

"I hope he was not unnecessarily persistent," said the Prince, annoyed.
"It really is of no consequence where we sit."

"Ladies first, world without end," said Dank. "Especially at sea."

"He was not persistent, sir. In fact he was hextraordinary subdued all
the time he was hexplaining the situation to them. I could tell by the
way his back looked, sir."

"Never mind, Hobbs. You ordered luncheon?"

"Yes, your 'ighness. Chops and sweet potatoes and--"

"But that's what we had yesterday, Hobbs."

A vivid red overspread the suddenly dismayed face of Hobbs. "'Pon my
soul, sir, I--I clean forgot that it was yesterday I was thinking of.
The young lady gave me such a sharp look, sir, when the 'ead waiter
pointed at me that I clean forgot wot I was there for. I will 'urry
back and--"

"Do, Hobbs, that's a good fellow. I'm as hungry as a bear. But no
chops!"

"Thank you, sir. No chops. Absolutely, sir." He stopped in the doorway.
"I daresay it was 'er beauty, sir, that did it. No chops. Quite so,
sir."

"If Blithers were only here," sighed Dank. "He would make short work of
the female invasion. He would have them chucked overboard."

"I beg pardon, sir," further adventured Hobbs, "but I fancy not even
Mr. Blithers could move that young woman, sir, if she didn't 'appen to
want to be moved. Never in my life, sir, have I seen--"

"Run along, Hobbs," said the Prince. "Boiled guinea hen."

"And cantaloupe, sir. Yes, sir, I quite remember everything now, sir."

Twenty minutes later, R. Schmidt, seated in the Ritz restaurant,
happened to look fairly into the eyes of the loveliest girl he had ever
seen, and on the instant forgave the extraordinary delinquency of the
hitherto infallible Hobbs.




CHAPTER IX

THE PRINCE MEETS MISS GUILE


Later on R. Schmidt sat alone in a sheltered corner of the promenade
deck, where chairs had been secured by the forehanded Hobbs. The thin
drizzle now aspired to something more definite in the shape of a steady
downpour, and the decks were almost deserted, save for the few who
huddled in the unexposed nooks where the sweep and swish of the rain
failed to penetrate. There was a faraway look in the young man's eyes,
as of one who dreams pleasantly, with little effort but excellent
effect. His pipe had gone out, so his dream must have been long and
uninterrupted. Eight bells sounded, but what is time to a dreamer? Then
came one bell and two, and now his eyes were closed.

Two women came and stood over him, but little did they suspect that his
dream was of one of them: the one with the lovely eyes and the soft
brown hair. They surveyed him, whispering, the one with a little
perplexed frown on her brow, the other with distinct signs of annoyance
in her face. The girl was not more than twenty, her companion quite old
enough to be her mother: a considerate if not complimentary estimate,
for a girl's mother may be either forty, fifty or even fifty-five, when
you come to think of it.

They were looking for something. That was quite clear. And it was
deplorably clear that whatever it was, R. Schmidt was sitting upon it.
They saw that he was asleep, which made the search if not the actual
recovery quite out of the question. The older woman was on the point of
poking the sleeper with the toe of her shoe, being a matter-of-fact
sort of person, when the girl imperatively shook her head and frowned
upon the lady in a way to prove that even though she was old enough to
be the mother of a girl of twenty she was by no means the mother of
this one.

At that very instant, R. Schmidt opened his eyes. It must have been a
kindly poke by the god of sleep that aroused him so opportunely, but
even so, the toe of a shoe could not have created a graver catastrophe
than that which immediately befell him. He completely lost his head. If
one had suddenly asked what had become of it, he couldn't have told,
not for the life of him. For that matter, he couldn't have put his
finger, so to speak, on any part of his person and proclaimed with
confidence that it belonged to R. Schmidt of Vienna. He was looking
directly up into a pair of dark, startled eyes, in which there was a
very pretty confusion and a far from impervious blink.

"I beg your pardon," said the older woman, without the faintest trace
of embarrassment,--indeed, with some asperity,--"I think you are
occupying one of our chairs."

He scrambled out of the steamer rug and came to his feet, blushing to
the roots of his hair.

"I beg your pardon," he stammered, and found his awkwardness rewarded
by an extremely sweet smile--in the eyes of the one he addressed.

"We were looking for a letter that I am quite sure was left in my
chair," said she.

"A letter?" he murmured vaguely, and at once began to search with his
eyes.

"From her father," volunteered the elderly one, as if it were a
necessary bit of information. Then she jerked the rug away and three
pairs of eyes examined the place where R. Schmidt had been reclining.
"That's odd. Did you happen to see it when you sat down, sir?"

"I am confident that there was no letter--" began he, and then allowed
his gaze to rest on the name-card at the top of the chair. "This
happens to be _my_ chair, madam," he went on, pointing to the card.
"'R. Schmidt.' I am very sorry."

"The steward must have put that card there while you were at luncheon,
dear. What right has he to sell our chairs over again? I shall report
this to the Captain--"

"I am quite positive that this is my chair, sir," said the girl, a spot
of red in each cheek. "It was engaged two days ago. I have been
occupying it since--but it really doesn't matter. It has your name on
it now, so I suppose I shall have to--"

"Not at all," he made haste to say. "It's yours. There has been some
miserable mistake. These deck stewards are always messing things up.
Still, it is rather a mystery about the letter. I assure you I saw no--"

"No doubt the steward who changed the cards had sufficient intelligence
to remove all incriminating evidence," said she coolly. "We shall find
it among the lost, strayed and stolen articles, no doubt. Pray retain
the chair, Mr.--" She peered at the name-card--"Mr. Schmidt."

Her cool insolence succeeded in nettling a nature that was usually most
gentle. He spoke with characteristic directness.

"Thank you, I shall do so. We thereby manage to strike a fair average.
I seize your deck chair, you seize my table. We are quits."

She smiled faintly. "R. Schmidt did not sound young and gentle, but old
and hateful. That is why I seized the table. I expected to find R.
Schmidt a fat, old German with very bad manners. Instead, you are
neither fat, old, nor disagreeable. You took it very nicely, Mr.
Schmidt, and I am undone. Won't you permit me to restore your table to
you?"

The elderly lady was tapping the deck with a most impatient foot.
"Really my dear, we were quite within our rights in approaching the
head waiter. He--"

"He said it was engaged," interrupted the young lady. "R. Schmidt was
the name he gave and I informed him it meant nothing to me. I am very
sorry, Mr. Schmidt. I suppose it was all because I am so accustomed to
having my own way."

"In that case, it is all very easy to understand," said he, "for I have
always longed to be in a position where I could have my own way. I am
sure that if I could have it, I would be a most overbearing, selfish
person."

"We must enquire at the office for the letter, my dear, before--"

"It may have dropped behind the chair," said the girl.

"Right!" cried R. Schmidt, dragging the chair away and pointing in
triumph at the missing letter. He stooped to recover the missive, but
she was quick to forestall him. With a little gasp she pounced upon it
and, like a child proceeded to hold it behind her back. He stiffened.
"I remember that you said it was from your father."

She hesitated an instant and then held it forth for his inspection,
rather adroitly concealing the postmark with her thumb. It was
addressed to "Miss B. Guile, S. S. _Jupiter_, New York City, N. Y.,"
and type-written.

"It is only fair that we should be quits in every particular," she
said, with a frank smile.

He bowed. "A letter of introduction," he said, "in the strictest sense
of the word. You have already had my card thrust upon you, so
everything is quite regular. And now it is only right and proper that I
should see what has become of your chairs. Permit me--"

"Really, Miss Guile," interposed her companion, "this is quite
irregular. I may say it is unusual. Pray allow me to suggest--"

"I think it is only right that Mr. Schmidt should return good for
evil," interrupted the girl gaily. "Please enquire, Mr. Schmidt. No
doubt the deck steward will know."

Again the Prince bowed, but this time there was amusement instead of
uncertainty in his eyes. It was the first time that any one had ever
urged him, even by inference, to "fetch and carry." Moreover, she was
extremely cool about it, as one who exacts much of young men in serge
suits and outing-caps. He found himself wondering what she would say if
he were to suddenly announce that he was the Prince of Graustark. The
thought tickled his fancy, accounting, no doubt, for the even deeper
bow that he gave her.

"They can't be very far away," he observed quite meekly. "Oh, I say,
steward! One moment, here." A deck steward approached with alacrity.
"What has become of Miss Guile's chair?"

The man touched his cap and beamed joyously upon the fair young lady.

"Ach! See how I have forgot! It is here! The best place on the deck--on
any deck. See! Two--side by side,--above the door, away from the
draft--see, in the corner, ha, ha! Yes! Two by side. The very best.
Miss Guile complains of the draft from the door. I exchanged the
chairs. See! But I forgot to speak. Yes! See!"

And, sure enough, there were the chairs of Miss Guile and her companion
snugly stowed away in the corner, standing at right angles to the long
row that lined the deck, the foot rests pointed directly at the chair
R. Schmidt had just vacated, not more than a yard and a half away.

"How stupid!" exclaimed Miss Guile. "Thank you, steward. This is much
better. So sorry, Mr. Schmidt, to have disturbed you. I abhor drafts,
don't you?"

"Not to the extent that I shall move out of this one," he replied
gallantly, "now that I've got an undisputed claim to it. I intend to
stand up for my rights, Miss Guile, even though you find me at your
feet."

"How perfectly love--" began Miss Guile, a gleam of real enthusiasm in
her eyes. A sharp, horrified look from her companion served as a check,
and she became at once the coolly indifferent creature who exacts
everything. "Thank you, Mr. Schmidt, for being so nice when we were
trying so hard to be horrid."

"But you don't know how nice you are when you are trying to be horrid,"
he remarked. "Are you not going to sit down, now that we've captured
the disappearing chair?"

"No," she said, and he fancied he saw regret in her eyes. "I am going
to my room,--if I can find it. No doubt it also is lost. This seems to
be a day for misplacing things."

"At any rate, permit me to thank you for discovering me, Miss Guile."

"Oh, I daresay I shall misplace you, too, Mr. Schmidt." She said it so
insolently that he flushed as he drew himself up and stepped aside to
allow her to pass. For an instant their eyes met, and the sign of the
humble was not to be found in the expression of either.

"Even _that_ will be something for me to look forward to, Miss Guile,"
said he. Far from being vexed, she favoured him with a faint smile
of--was it wonder or admiration?

Then she moved away, followed by the uneasy lady--who was old enough to
be her mother and wasn't.

Robin remained standing for a moment, looking after her, and somehow he
felt that his dream was not yet ended. She turned the corner of the
deck building and was lost to sight. He sat down, only to arise almost
instantly, moved by a livelier curiosity than he ever had felt before.
Conscious of a certain feeling of stealth, he scrutinised the cards in
the backs of the two chairs. The steward was collecting the discarded
steamer-rugs farther down the deck, and the few passengers who occupied
chairs, appeared to be snoozing,--all of which he took in with his
first appraising glance. "Miss Guile" and "Mrs. Gaston" were the names
he read.

"Americans," he mused. "Young lady and chaperone, that's it. A real
American beauty! And Blithers loudly boasts that his daughter is the
prettiest girl in America! Shades of Venus! Can there be such a thing
on earth as a prettier girl than this one? Can nature have performed
the impossible? Is America so full of lovely girls that this one must
take second place to a daughter of Blithers? I wonder if she knows the
imperial Maud. I'll make it a point to inquire."

Moved by a sudden restlessness, he decided that he was in need of
exercise. A walk would do him good. The same spirit of restlessness, no
doubt, urged him to walk rather rapidly in the direction opposite to
that taken by the lovely Miss Guile. After completely circling the deck
once he decided that he did not need the exercise after all. His walk
had not benefitted him in the least. She _had_ gone to her room. He
returned to his chair, conscious of having been defeated but without
really knowing why or how. As he turned into the dry, snug corner, he
came to an abrupt stop and stared. Miss Guile was sitting in her chair,
neatly encased in a mummy-like sheath of grey that covered her slim
body to the waist.

She was quite alone in her nook, and reading. Evidently the book
interested her, for she failed to look up when he clumsily slid into
his chair and threw the rug over his legs--dreadfully long,
uninteresting legs, he thought, as he stretched them out and found that
his feet protruded like a pair of white obelisks.

Naturally he looked seaward, but in his mind's eye he saw her as he had
seen her not more than ten minutes before: a slim, tall girl in a smart
buff coat, with a limp white hat drawn down over her hair by means of a
bright green veil; he had had a glimpse of staunch tan walking-shoes.
He found himself wondering how he had missed her in the turn about the
deck, and how she could have ensconced herself so snugly during his
brief evacuation of the spot. Suddenly it occurred to him that she had
returned to the chair only after discovering that his was vacant. It
wasn't a very gratifying conclusion.

An astonishing intrepidity induced him to speak to her after a lapse of
five or six minutes, and so surprising was the impulse that he blurted
out his question without preamble.

"How did you manage to get back so quickly?" he inquired.

She looked up, and for an instant there was something like alarm in her
lovely eyes, as of one caught in the perpetration of a guilty act.

"I beg your pardon," she said, rather indistinctly.

"I was away less than eight minutes," he declared, and she was
confronted by the wonderfully frank smile that never failed to work its
charm. To his surprise, a shy smile grew in her eyes, and her warm red
lips twitched uncertainly. He had expected a cold rebuff. "You must
have dropped through the awning."

"Your imagination is superior to that employed by the author of this
book," she said, "and that is saying a good deal, Mr.--Mr.--"

"Schmidt," he supplied cheerfully. "May I inquire what book you are
reading?"

"You would not be interested. It is by an American."

"I have read a great many American novels," said he stiffly. "My father
was an American. Awfully jolly books, most of them."

"I looked you up in the passenger list a moment ago," she said coolly.
"Your home is in Vienna. I like Vienna."

He was looking rather intently at the book, now partly lowered. "Isn't
that the passenger list you have concealed in that book?" he demanded.

"It is," she replied promptly. "You will pardon a natural curiosity? I
wanted to see whether you were from New York."

"May I look at it, please?"

She closed the book. "It isn't necessary. I _am_ from New York."

"By the way, do you happen to know a Miss Blithers,--Maud Blithers?"

Miss Guile frowned reflectively. "Blithers? The name is a familiar one.
Maud Blithers? What is she like?"

"She's supposed to be very good-looking. I've never seen her."

"How queer to be asking me if I know her, then. Why _do_ you ask?"

"I've heard so much about her lately. She is the daughter of William
Blithers, the great capitalist."

"Oh, I know who he is," she exclaimed. "Perfect roodles of money,
hasn't he?"

"Roodles?"

"Loads, if it means more to you. I forgot that you are a foreigner. He
gave that wonderful ball last week for the Prince of--of--Oh, some
insignificant little place over in Europe. There are such a lot of
queer little duchies and principalities, don't you know; it is quite
impossible to tell one from the other. They don't even appear on the
maps."

He took it with a perfectly straight face, though secretly annoyed. "It
was the talk of the town, that ball. It must have cost roodles of
money. Is that right?"

"Yes, but it doesn't sound right when you say it. Naturally one doesn't
say roodles in Vienna."

"We say noodles," said he. "I am very fond of them. But to resume; I
supposed every one in New York knew Miss Blithers. She's quite the
rage, I'm told."

"Indeed? I should think she might be, Mr. Schmidt, with all those
lovely millions behind her."

He smiled introspectively. "Yes; and I am told that, in spite of them,
she is the prettiest girl in New York."

She appeared to lose interest in the topic. "Oh, indeed?"

"But," he supplemented gracefully, "it isn't true."

"What isn't true?"

"The statement that she is the prettiest girl in New York."

"How can you say that, when you admit you've never seen her?"

"I can say it with a perfectly clear conscience, Miss Guile," said he,
and was filled with delight when she bit her lip as a sign of
acknowledgment.

"Oh, here comes the tea," she cried, with a strange eagerness in her
voice. "I am so glad." She scrambled gracefully out of her rug and
arose to her feet.

"Aren't you going to have some?" he cried.

"Yes," she said, quite pointedly. "In my room, Mr. Schmidt," and before
he could get to his feet she was moving away without so much as a nod
or smile for him. Indeed, she appeared to have dismissed him from her
thoughts quite as completely as from her vision. He experienced a queer
sensation of shrivelling.

At dinner that night, she failed to look in his direction, a
circumstance that may not appear extraordinary when it is stated that
she purposely or inadvertently exchanged seats with Mrs. Gaston and sat
with her back to the table occupied by R. Schmidt and his friends. He
had to be content with a view of the most exquisite back and shoulders
that good fortune had ever allowed him to gaze upon. And then there was
the way that her soft brown hair grew above the slender neck, to say
nothing of--but Mrs. Gaston was watching him with most unfriendly eyes,
so the feast was spoiled.

The following day was as unlike its predecessor as black is like white.
During the night the smooth grey pond had been transformed into a
turbulent, storm-threshed ocean; the once gentle wind was now a howling
gale that swept the decks with a merciless lash in its grip and whipped
into submission all who vaingloriously sought to defy its chill
dominion. Not rain, but spray from huge, swashing billows, clouded the
decks, biting and cutting like countless needles, each drop with the
sting of a hornet behind it. Now the end of the world seemed far away,
and the jumping off place was a rickety wall of white and black,
leaning against a cold, drear sky.

Only the hardiest of the passengers ventured on deck; the exhilaration
they professed was but another name for bravado. They shivered and
gasped for breath as they forged their bitter way into the gale, and
few were they who took more than a single turn of the deck. Like beaten
cowards they soon slunk into the sheltered spots, or sought even less
heroic means of surrender by tumbling into bed with the considerate
help of unsmiling stewards. The great ship went up and the great ship
came down: when up so high that the sky seemed to be startlingly near
and down so horribly low that the bottom of the ocean was even nearer.
And it creaked and groaned and sighed even above the wild monody of the
wind, like a thing in misery, yet all the while holding its sides to
keep from bursting with laughter over the plight of the little creature
whom God made after His own image but not until after all of the big
things of the universe had been designed.

R. Schmidt, being a good sailor and a hardy young chap, albeit a prince
of royal blood, was abroad early, after a breakfast that staggered the
few who remained unstaggered up to that particular crisis. A genial
sailor-man and an equally ungenial deck swabber advised him, in totally
different styles of address, to stay below if he knew what was good for
him, only to be thanked with all the blitheness of a man who jolly well
knows what is good for him, or who doesn't care whether it is good for
him or not so long as he is doing the thing that he wants to do.

He took two turns about the deck, and each time as he passed the spot
he sent a covert glance into the corner where Miss Guile's chair was
standing. Of course he did not expect to find her there in weather like
this, but--well, he looked and that is the end to the argument. The
going was extremely treacherous and unpleasant he was free to confess
to the genial sailor-man after the second breathless turn, and gave
that worthy a bright silver dollar upon receiving a further bit of
advice: to sit down somewhere out of the wind, sir.

Quinnox and Dank were hopelessly bed-ridden, so to speak. They were
very disagreeable, cross and unpleasant, and somehow he felt that they
hated their cheerful, happy-faced Prince. Never before had Count
Quinnox scowled at him, no matter how mad his pranks as a child or how
silly his actions as a youth. Never before had any one told him to go
to the devil. He rather liked it. And he rather admired poor Dank for
ordering him out of his cabin, with a perfectly astounding oath as a
climax to the command. Moreover, he thought considerably better of the
faithful Hobbs for an amazing exposition of human equality in the
matter of a pair of boots that he desired to wear that morning but
which happened to be stowed away in a cabin trunk. He told Hobbs to go
to the devil and Hobbs repeated the injunction, with especial heat, to
the boots, when he bumped his head in hauling them out of the trunk.
Whereupon R. Schmidt said to Hobbs: "Good for you. Hobbs. Go on,
please. Don't mind me. It was quite a thump, wasn't it?" And Hobbs
managed, between other words, to say that it was a whacking thump, and
one he would not forget to his dying day--(if he lived through this
one!).

"And you'd do well to sit in the smoke-room, sir," further advised the
sailor-man, clinging to the rail with one hand and pocketing the coin
with the other.

"No," said R. Schmidt resolutely. "I don't like the air in the
smoke-room."

"There's quite a bit of air out 'ere, sir."

"I need quite a bit."

"I should think you might, sir, being a 'ealthy, strappin' sort of a
chap, sir. 'Elp yourself. All the chairs is yours if you'll unpile 'em."

The young man battled his way down the deck and soon found himself in
the well-protected corner. A half-dozen unoccupied chairs were
cluttered about, having been abandoned by persons who over-estimated
their hardiness. One of the stewards was engaged in stacking them up
and making them fast.

Miss Guile's chair and that of Mrs. Gaston were staunchly fastened down
and their rugs were in place. R. Schmidt experienced an exquisite
sensation of pleasure. Here was a perfect exemplification of that
much-abused thing known as circumstantial evidence. She contemplated
coming on deck. So he had his chair put in place, called for his rug,
shrugged his chin down into the collar of his thick ulster, and sat
down to wait.




CHAPTER X

AN HOUR ON DECK


She literally was blown into his presence. He sprang to his feet to
check her swift approach before she could be dashed against the wall or
upon the heap of chairs in the corner. The deep roll of the vessel had
ended so suddenly that she was thrown off her balance, at best
precariously maintained in the hurricane that swept her along the deck.
She was projected with considerable violence against the waiting figure
of R. Schmidt, who had hastily braced himself for the impact of the
slender body in the thick sea-ulster. She uttered an excited little
shriek as she came bang up against him and found his ready arms closing
about her shoulders.

"Oh, goodness!" she gasped, with what little breath she had left, and
then began to laugh as she freed herself in confusion--a very pretty
confusion he recalled later on, after he had recovered to some extent
from the effects of an exceedingly severe bump on the back of his head.
"How awkward!"

"Not at all," he proclaimed, retaining a grip on one of her arms until
the ship showed some signs of resuming its way eastward instead of
downward.

"I am sure it must have hurt dreadfully," she cried. "Nothing hurts
worse than a bump. It seemed as though you must have splintered the
wall."

"I have a singularly hard head," said he, and forthwith felt of the
back of it.

"Will you please stand ready to receive boarders? My maid is following
me, poor thing, and I can't afford to have her smashed to pieces. Here
she is!"

Quite a pretty maid, with wide, horrified eyes and a pale green
complexion came hustling around the corner. R. Schmidt, albeit a
prince, received her with open arms.

"Merci, M'sieur!" she squealed and added something in muffled French
that strangely reminded him of what Hobbs had said in English. Then she
deposited an armful of rugs and magazines at Robin's feet, and clutched
wildly at a post actually some ten feet away but which appeared to be
coming toward her with obliging swiftness, so nicely was the deck
rotating for her. "Mon dieu! Mon dieu!"

"You may go back to bed, Marie," cried her mistress in some haste.

"But ze rug, I feex it--" groaned the unhappy maid, and then once more:
"Merci, M'sieur!" She clung to the arm he extended, and tried bravely
to smile her thanks.

"Here! Go in through this door," he said, bracing the door open with
his elbow. "You'll be all right in a little while. Keep your nerve." He
closed the door after her and turned to the amused Miss Guile. "Well,
it's an ill wind that blows no good," he said enigmatically, and she
flushed under the steady smile in his eyes. "Allow me to arrange your
rug for you. Miss Guile."

"Thank you, no. I think I would better go inside. It is really too
windy--"

"The wind can't get at you back here in this cubbyhole," he protested.
"Do sit down. I'll have you as snug as a bug in a rug before you can
say Jack Robinson. See! Now stick 'em out and I'll wrap it around them.
There! You're as neatly done up as a mummy and a good deal better off,
because you are a long way short of being two thousand years old."

"How is your head, Mr. Schmidt?" she inquired with grave concern. "You
seem to be quite crazy. I hope--"

"Every one is a little bit mad, don't you think? Especially in moments
of great excitement. I daresay my head _has_ been turned quite
appreciably, and I'm glad that you've been kind enough to notice it.
Where is Mrs. Gaston?" He was vastly exhilarated.

She regarded him with eyes that sparkled and belied the unamiable
nature of her reply.

"The poor lady is where she is not at all likely to be annoyed, Mr.
Schmidt."

Then she took up a magazine and coolly began to run through the pages.
He waited for a moment, considerably dashed, and then said "Oh," in a
very unfriendly manner. She found her place in the magazine, assumed a
more comfortable position, and, with noteworthy resolution, set about
reading as if her life depended upon it.

He sat down, pulled the rug up to his chin, and stared out at the
great, heaving billows. Suddenly remembering another injury, he felt
once more of the back of his head.

"By jove!" he exclaimed. "There _is_ a lump there."

"I can't hear you," she said, allowing the magazine to drop into her
lap, but keeping her place carefully marked with one of her fingers.

"I can hear you perfectly," he said.

"It's the way the wind blows," she explained.

"Easily remedied," said he. "I'll move into Mrs. Gaston's chair if you
think it will help any."

"Do!" she said promptly. "You will not disturb me in the least,--unless
you talk." She resumed her reading, half a page above the finger tip.

He moved over and arranged himself comfortably, snugly in Mrs. Gaston's
chair. Their elbows almost met. He was prepared to be very patient. For
a long time she continued to read, her warm, rosy cheek half-averted,
her eyes applied to their task with irritating constancy. He did not
despair. Some wise person once had told him that it was only necessary
to give a woman sufficient time and she would be the one to despair.

A few passengers possessed of proud sea-legs, staggered past the snug
couple on their ridiculous rounds of the ship. If they thought of Miss
Guile and R. Schmidt at all it was with the scorn that is usually
devoted to youth at its very best. There could be no doubt in the
passing mind that these two were sweethearts who managed to thrive on
the smallest of comforts.

At last his patience was rewarded. She lowered the magazine and stifled
a yawn--but not a real one.

"Have you read it?" she inquired composedly.

"A part of it," he said. "Over your shoulder."

"Is that considered polite in Vienna?"

"If you only knew what a bump I've got on the back of my head you
wouldn't be so ungracious." he said.

"I couldn't possibly know, could I?"

He leaned forward and indicated the spot on the back of his head, first
removing his cap. She laughed nervously, and then gently rubbed her
fingers over the thick hair.

"There is a dreadful lump!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how sorry I am. Do--do
you feel faint or--or--I mean, is it very painful?"

"Not now," he replied, replacing his cap and favouring her with his
most engaging smile.

She smiled in response, betraying not the slightest sign of
embarrassment. As a matter of fact, she was, if anything, somewhat too
self-possessed.

"I remember falling down stairs once," she said, "and getting a
stupendous bump on my forehead. But that was a great many years ago and
I cried. How was I to know that it hurt you, Mr. Schmidt, when you
neglected to cry?"

"Heroes never cry," said he. "It isn't considered first-class fiction,
you know."

"Am I to regard you as a hero?"

"If you will be so kind, please."

She laughed outright at this. "I think I rather like you, Mr. Schmidt,"
she said, with unexpected candour.

"Oh, I fancy I'm not at all bad," said he, after a momentary stare of
astonishment. "I am especially good in rough weather," he went on,
trying to forget that he was a prince of the royal blood, a rather
difficult matter when one stops to consider he was not in the habit of
hearing people say that they rather liked him.

"Do your friends come from Vienna?" she inquired abruptly.

"Yes," he said, and then saved his face as usual by addi

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