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Dash for a Throne

<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> <h3>CHECKMATE</h3> The entrance of the mad King's understudy had been arranged with scrupulous eye to effect. The King himself had ordered all details, and they were carried out exactly as he had planned, on a scale of ostentatious and almost insane extravagance in which he was wont to indulge. The supposed King was made up to represent a Chinese Emperor, the full robes offering effectual concealment of any difference between the figures of the King and his substitute. His head was bald save for the ornamental head-dress and the long, coal-black pigtail. His features were entirely concealed behind the skin mask of a painted Chinese face drawn very tight, lifelike, yet infinitely grotesque; and his robes were gorgeous and most costly, embroidered with thousands of jewels in the quaintest and weirdest of Chinese designs. He was seated in a royal palanquin, bore by eight bearers in most hideous garbs, each wearing a skin mask of the same kind as the central figure; and as they put down their burden in the middle of the hall they turned in all directions, and set their faces grinning and mouthing and grimacing with a most weird effect. The palanquin itself was decorated and bejewelled with the same lavish prodigality with which the lunatic King was accustomed to squander his people's money in trifles and fooling. So gorgeous and costly was every appointment of it, indeed, that even while the spectators marvelled at its brilliance they cursed the wastefulness that made it practicable. But it was quite impossible to mistake the whole thing for anything but a royal freak; and those present did not need the private mark that was, as usual, on the arm to reveal to them that the bowing, grinning, sumptuously apparelled figure that sat amid the cushions of the palanquin, squeaking out gibberish in a high-pitched voice as though indulging in Chinese greetings, was their King. The whole scene was too characteristic of him. Behind the palanquin, grouped with clever regard to color effects, were the members of a numerous suite, all attired in rich Chinese costumes, while musicians, playing upon all kinds of extraordinary instruments, clanged and clashed, trumpeted and drummed, squeaked and groaned, in a medley of indescribable discords and unrhythmic jangle. Yet in all the babel and confusion there was the method of shrewd organization and carefully thought out plan. When the first effect of the dramatic entrance was over, the bearers took up the palanquin, a procession was formed, and the courtiers and musicians, reinforced by a number of dancing-girls and men, made a progress round the ball-rooms, and at last grouped themselves about and around a raised dais, on one side of which stood an improvised throne. A programme of dancing was then gone through, followed by a number of ceremonial acts, all intended as a preface to the chief performance for which we were waiting so anxiously—the play of the formal abdication. During the whole of this fantastic business my excitement had been growing fast. I knew that with comparatively few exceptions all the people present were dead against me and in favor of the Ostenburg interest. For months—for years, indeed—they had been working, striving, and plotting for the end which they now thought to be within their reach. Among them, as I had had abundant evidence, were men desperate enough to stop short of no excesses to gain that end, and yet I was seeking to checkmate them in the very hour of success by a single bold stroke. All the men who had taken a leading part in the plot had dispersed among the audience, each having a definite part assigned to him. I myself stood apart leaning against a pillar, with Steinitz not far from me, and when the procession had just passed me a deep voice close to my ear said: "A striking ceremonial, Prince." I looked round, and thought I recognized the lithe, sinewy face of the Corsican Praga, whose dark, glittering eyes were staring at me through his mask. "Very striking. Who are you?" I asked cautiously. "I carry the tools of my trade," he replied, touching lightly his sword. "And I am badly in want of work." "Why are you here?" "I am a sort of postman—I bring news of the mail." I understood the play of the words, and knew him by it for certain. "And what is the news?" "Of the best, except for one thing." His tone alarmed me somewhat. We drew away then from the crowd, and, standing apart together, he told me what had happened. "That Clara is a devil, Prince, and we must beware of her. She hates you, and has been torn in two ways by this business." "What do you mean, man? Speak out. Where is the Duke Marx?" "Safe, and where no one will find him. Drunk as a Christian duke should be, and the wine that was made from the water couldn't make him drunker. She lured him out to Spenitz; and, when she had got him separated from his servants, drove with him to the house at Friessen alone." This was the place we had secured for the purpose in a lonely spot some fifty miles from the city. "He would have gone to the world's end in the mood she worked him into, and I chuckled louder every fresh mile we covered." "You! What were you doing there?" I asked in astonishment. "I was the driver, of course. We wanted no servants—there was no place for them—and, once we started from Spenitz, I vowed that he should go on if I had to brain him to get him there. Bacchus, but he's a fool!" "Get on with the story, man," said I impatiently. "I want to know what you fear is wrong." "He went out like a lamb, protesting only now and then that he must be back soon, and must be in Munich to-night; but she stopped his protests with a kiss, and the fool was as happy as a drunken clown. We reached Friessen, and then the play began. While they were billing and fooling in the house I slipped a saddle on the horse's back in place of his harness, went out on to the road, and, after I had given him less than half an hour with Clara, I came galloping up to the house at full stretch, for all the world as if I had followed them every yard of the way from Spenitz, and I rushed into the room with my sword drawn, spluttering out oaths, and vowing I'd have his life on the spot." "Well?" "There's a good assortment of cowardice in that little body of his. He has too many good things in this life to wish to leave it, I suppose, for he could scarcely make enough show of fight to make it plausible for Clara to rush in between us, throw herself on her knees, and, with a clever bit of acting, pray that there should be no bloodshed. I blustered and raged, and at length consented to spare his wee chip of a life; but I forced him to swallow an opiate that made him as drunk as a fool, and will keep him quiet for a dozen hours or more. Then I bound and gagged him to make doubly sure, and locked him up in an underground cellar. We can keep him there a close prisoner for a month if need be and not a soul will be the wiser, unless——" "Unless what?" I cried. "Unless the beloved Clara should choose to say what she knows." "Do you suspect her?" "I don't know what she means, or what she wants. She is torn between her desire to help me and to hurt you; and which will win in the end I can't say. She has done this for me, but, having done it, she is singular enough to turn round and try to hit at you in some other direction. I can't answer for her; and I thought it best to tell you so." "If you think she means to tell of his whereabouts, we'll send out to-night at once and change it." "I can't think that, because it would be treachery to me. In fact, I'm sure she won't. She knows me pretty well by this time, and I swore to her that if she did anything of the kind I'd wreak a bitter vengeance on her and the duke. I'll do it too," he growled, with a deep guttural oath. "But what do you fear, then?" "She is back to-night in Munich for some object; and as she is deep in with the Ostenburg lot, trusted by them, too—it is through her that most things have leaked to me—we may look for her to fend off suspicion from herself for this decoy work by striking at you in some other way. So you know what to expect." "But if she is helping you, why should she turn against me?" I said, perplexed. "For the best of all reasons, Prince—she is a woman." The fact that I could not solve the enigma did not decrease my disquiet at the news, and had there been time I would have taken some measures of precaution. But it was too late now. We must go on, whether to succeed or to fail; for a glance at the dais showed me that the moment for the act of abdication had arrived, and we both turned to watch the proceedings. This ceremonial was also very carefully planned to give it the appearance of formal reality. A loud flourish of trumpets was sounded, and the Court herald stepped forward and announced that his Majesty the King had a weighty communication to make at once. Every one of the Privy Councillors present went forward and stood in a group about the throne, and among them were the Baron Heckscher, and five or six of the men who had been associated as leaders in the scheme. To them the pseudo King made many bows, and, choosing the Baron Heckscher as his mouthpiece, delivered by him a message to the rest. Then the trumpets blared again, and the supposed King, standing up, laid aside the outer Chinese robe he wore, and stood revealed in the ordinary Court dress of the King himself; but he remained masked, of course. He next handed a paper to the baron, who handed it to one of the heralds, and the latter, who had been properly coached as to its contents, read it out in a loud, ringing voice to all the people assembled. This was the royal proclamation that his Majesty had resolved to abdicate, and that he had nominated the Countess Minna von Gramberg, the nearest heir, as his successor, and called upon the people to support her. At this juncture I made my way to where Minna was standing in her hooded domino by von Krugen, and took my place beside her. She was trembling violently, and I whispered a word or two of encouragement. "You had better get ready to unmask, and throw aside the domino," I said, and her reply was drowned in the ringing cheers of the crowd. There was no mistaking the heartiness which greeted the news of the abdication; but the question for us was whether there would be the same cheering when it was found that Minna herself was present to accept the honor thus offered her. At first those people who were not in the secret had been altogether unable to grasp the meaning of the proceedings; but those in the plot soon led the way, and as they scattered thickly all about the room, they spread the news quickly and by assuming to take the whole thing as genuine induced the rest to indorse an event they desired only too keenly. Then followed the Act of Abdication. The crown was brought by a page to the King, and he took it and placed it on his head. This was followed by a moment of silence. The trumpets blared out again; and the herald announced that his Majesty would lay aside the crown in accordance with the proclamation and as a sign that he renounced it forever in favor of his successor. The action was watched in deep, dead silence; but no sooner had it been completed than the chorusing crowd, who had been carefully coached, broke out into loud and vociferous cries and shouts of "Long live Queen Minna!" "Now, Minna," I whispered anxiously; for she seemed too anxious to make the slightest attempt to prepare. "In another moment I must lead you forward." As the cries died away the man on the throne, now uncrowned, moved aside, and, with a bow to those round him, walked quickly away out of the hall. There was another blare of trumpets and a fresh call for the Queen. "Come, Minna; you must come," I said firmly; and I myself unmasked, drawing the attention of many in the room upon me by this act. But the girl at my side made no movement. She had ceased to tremble, however, as I found when she put her hand on my arm. "Everything will be ruined, Minna, if you do not come," I said, and in my excitement I touched her domino, as if to draw it away. A low soft laugh was the answer I got. I looked up in the deepest astonishment. I began to fear I knew not what. A glance at the secret mark on the domino told me there was no mistake. The little red cross on the shoulder next me was distinctly visible. But an instant later I knew what it all meant. The mask was slipped off, but instead of Minna the face of Clara Weylin met mine with a look of exasperating mockery in the insolent, triumphant eyes. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus6.jpg" alt=""/></div> <h3>INSTEAD OF MINNA, THE FACE OF CLARA WEYLIN MET MINE.</h3> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> For the moment I was like a man bereft of his senses. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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