The President smiled grimly.
"We are under great obligations to Mrs. Oswald Carey," he said, "and I shall see that you are restored to your position, only you must not be so obstinate about your a.s.sessments in the future, as there is no Legitimate party now, thanks to your beautiful wife."
"Thanks to my beautiful wife! What do you mean, sir?" blurted Carey, staggering over toward the President and resting upon his two hands on the desk. "Thanks to my beautiful wife!"
"Come, come, sir," said the President, "be seated. You, of course, know what I mean. Your wife never spoke to me about restoring you to your office. She said that she would some time ask a favor of me in return for the information which she gave me. You have come to claim that return. I will keep my promise to her. However, if you do not leave brandy alone, the office will not do you much good."
"d.a.m.n your office," cried Carey, who had been a gentleman and a man of honor before the pa.s.sion for gambling had seized upon him. Once he had dreamed of a home, of children who should be proud to own him as their father, and he still loved his wife. "What information did Mrs. Carey give you?"
Carey"s hands nervously clutched a heavy bronze inkstand, which lay on the table in front of the President.
"The information which led to the suppression of the Royalist outbreak at Aldershot. Mrs. Carey is a government spy and informer," answered Bagshaw brutally. Then he tried to rise from his chair, for he saw a threatening look in Carey"s eye.
He was too late, for Carey, crying, "You lie, you hound!" lifted up the heavy inkstand which his hands had been mechanically clutching, and hurled it at the President"s bald head.
The missile stunned the President and cut a great gash in his head, and he fell senseless forward on the desk, a stream of mingled ink and blood dripping from his forehead upon the papers.
Carey looked at him disdainfully for a moment, and laughed derisively.
The policeman at the door said nothing to him as he went out; there had been no noise from the private room.
Then he walked a little hurriedly to his cab and told the cabman to drive to the club.
On the way there he trembled violently with rage as he thought of what the President had said to him of his wife, but chuckled when he thought of the revenge which he had taken.
"He will wake up with a cursed headache," Carey said to himself, "and if he wishes to arrest me, he can do it. Even the President cannot slander a man"s wife."
He was quite sober now, and had forgotten all about his "system." He thought of his wife, and wondered if she was pleased at the little present which he had sent to her in Paris; he thought of the days of his early love for her, when she had seemed to him a G.o.ddess; and this scoundrel had called her, his Eleanor, a spy, and a.s.serted that he had come to claim the reward of her treachery. At the club he noticed that all the men whispered to each other and smiled. When he entered the smoking-room a group were eagerly reading the latest news, which rolled in over the "ticker" in the corner. He supposed that the other fellows were making merry over his losses, and, with a hard laugh, he settled into an easy-chair and lighted a cigar. It pleased him to think of the President"s bald head smeared with blood and ink. He felt himself more of a man than he had for years. Just then a waiter brought him a letter upon a tray. It was his letter to his wife in Paris, into which he had slipped the bank-notes. Her bankers had returned it to him, and it was marked "Not found." He thrust it into his pocket, and wondered where Eleanor might be, and why he had not heard from her all this time. He remembered now that she had been gone a long time; he had been so absorbed in his play that he had not thought much about it before.
Looking up, he saw that the other men were all cl.u.s.tered around the "ticker," and that one of them was reading a despatch, and the others listened attentively, every now and then glancing over to him. He could not imagine at first what they were after; then it occurred to him that they were sending the news of his a.s.sault upon the President.
"What is it all about, you fellows?" he asked, walking over to them; "it must be d.a.m.ned amusing!" The men scattered as he approached, and left the "ticker" for his use, looking uneasily at him as he lifted the white tape in his hand and read the despatch which had so much interested them.
It was from Boston, U. S. A., telling of the arrival of the steamer with King George the Fifth and Mrs. Oswald Carey on board. The despatch darkly hinted that she had been the cause of the King"s failure to meet his adherents at Aldershot.
The room grew dark to Carey, and seemed to whir around him; the other men saw his face grow deadly white and his lips close firmly. He did not seem to notice them, but he pulled his hat over his eyes and staggered from the room.
"G.o.d!" said one of the men. "I believe that Carey was the only man in England who didn"t know what a woman his wife was. What do you suppose he will do?"
"Heaven knows," said a second. "But, I say, boys, let"s have a drink."
Carey found in the office that there was time to catch the next mail steamer from Liverpool for Boston if he rushed to the next train.
"The cursed scoundrel spoke the truth," he said to himself, "but I hope that I have crushed his head, just the same; and now I shall be in America in five days--and then--" He looked out at the landscape whirling by the windows of the railway carriage and set his teeth.
CHAPTER XVII.
AT THE COURT OF ST. JAMES.
The news of the arrival of Mrs. Oswald Carey in Boston caused some flutter in social circles. Her precise relations to the exiled King became at once a subject for speculation. Men of the world, with a taste for scandal, shrugged their shoulders and laughed knowingly. Charitably disposed people, who did not believe in bothering their heads about their neighbors" affairs, preferred to give her the benefit of the doubt. The serious question was whether society ought to open its doors to her. Her reputation as a beauty had preceded her. The American public had long been familiar with her fascinating face. Should she be welcomed as a sister or treated to the cold shoulder, which the world regards as the due of Mary Magdalene?
Girls settle everything in America. Two married women and a maiden met to discuss the propriety of inviting Mrs. Oswald Carey to five o"clock tea. One of them brought the particulars of her life vouched for by the most charming attaches of the court. Her career had been peculiarly sad.
She was the victim of a most affecting romance. The man whom she loved with all the pa.s.sion of which woman is capable had discarded her for another. She had been left poor and friendless. She had supported herself by painting china and by the pittance derived from the sale of her photographs, the last not of course quite the thing, but pardonable under the circ.u.mstances. Then, and not until then, she might have been somewhat unconventional.
"Girls," exclaimed the maiden, "even if she has been a little indiscreet in the past, a grand, superb woman such as she ought not to be judged by ordinary standards."
"Besides, the King is old enough to be her father," said another. "I don"t believe there is anything in these stories."
"It would be a pity to offend the dear old King," said the third.
And so it was settled. Mrs. Carey accepted their invitation. She came, saw, and conquered. Her charms were sufficient to deafen all but a few of the _jeunesse doree_ to the unsavory rumors still in circulation, notwithstanding the denial of their truth by the maiden and her a.s.sociates. This trio took to themselves the credit of having overcome the squeamishness of society, and as a reward for their perspicuity they considered themselves ent.i.tled to intimacy with their idol. Very speedily, as may be imagined, the clever woman took advantage of these proffers of friendship. Before a fortnight had elapsed she had drawn tears from her three auditors by a narration of the story of her life.
"How sad! how pathetic! how you must have suffered!" they exclaimed together, and Eleanor Carey, weeping with them, murmured in the intervals of her sobs, "It is almost worth suffering to have such friends as you."
The dear old King! In the early days of his exile there had been much to flatter the pride of the deposed sovereign. On his first appearance at the theatre the orchestra had played "G.o.d Save the King," and a buzz of sympathetic interest spread through the audience. He had risen and bowed. For the next few days the Old Province House was beset with callers. The fashion and intelligence of the city paid their respects to royalty in misfortune. The Princess Henrietta, the King"s only child, a stout, hearty-looking girl of eighteen, without beauty, made her _debut_ into society under these auspices. The first year, despite the change in their circ.u.mstances, had been pa.s.sed happily and with comparative content by the exiles.
But time, in its craving for novelties, does not spare even potentates.
King George the Fifth soon ceased to occupy the public attention, except in a minor degree. After their curiosity had been satisfied people began to laugh a little at the ceremonies and liveries of a court which existed only by courtesy. When the King went to the theatre the stage box was no longer at his disposal unless he paid for it, and on the opening night at the opera the claims of the family of ex-Senator Baggely, of Idaho, were regarded by the manager as superior to his. His exchequer, too, was low. He was said to be wholly dependent on what Bugbee allowed him. Rumors began to spread regarding the crown jewels.
One of the best known hotel-keepers in the city was said to have a mortgage on them. The royal carriage was presently dragged by only one horse. The other, a magnificent bay gelding, was reported to have the distemper, a trifling ailment, which would last but a few days. The animal did not reappear, however, until a reporter discovered it months after among the blooded stock of a New York banker. So it went from bad to worse. Soon the King and his daughter walked upon ordinary occasions, and when they did drive made use of the public stable. A groom in livery on the box beside the driver alone distinguished the equipage. At last one day the King took the Princess Henrietta aside and said:
"My child, we must leave this place. I cannot afford to remain at the Old Province House any longer."
"What! leave the Old Province House, the residence of the colonial governors?" cried the Princess, who had picturesque and sentimental notions despite her portly appearance. "It is renouncing the last prestige of royalty. Oh, I hope your Majesty will not persevere in this determination."
The King shook his head mournfully. "Our present apartments are too expensive. Besides, I have--eh--eh--advantageous proposals from the proprietor of a South End establishment, who desires to improve the tone of his hotel and neighborhood. I think if I accede to them we may be able to have our carriage again."
"Oh, father, it is better to be poor and preserve our self-respect."
King George took a pinch of snuff and sighed meditatively. "It will be only for a little while. My party will soon restore me to the throne of England." He paused, and his voice trembled. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his watery eyes, which were blinking worse than usual. "If we do not move, Henrietta, I cannot see how we shall be able to pay the rent. You know I only have what Bugbee allows me."
"Oh, my poor father," cried the Princess, and she flung her arms lovingly about his neck, "has it come to this? I cannot bear to see you in such distress. Let me earn something for our support. I have been idle long enough. I could be a good governess, I think, with my knowledge of modern languages. Very possibly, the Waitstill C. Hanc.o.c.ks would engage me to teach their children. They have been very friendly, you know."
"No, no, Henrietta, I will hear nothing of the kind. What! a Princess of the House of Hanover go out to service! This is the final stroke!" He repulsed her with indignation.
"But, your Majesty, consider. If I do not do something we shall starve."
"Not if we accept the terms to which I have alluded," said the King, mysteriously.
"Do you mean, your Majesty, that you have sold yourself?" asked the Princess. For an instant a suspicion pa.s.sed through her mind, which she dismissed straightway. There were those about the court who declared the monarch was a miser and had a fortune hidden away in his strong box.
"It is merely a case of fair exchange," replied King George, doggedly.
"The fellow wants to raise the character of his house. He will give me lodging in return for my patronage. I do not see anything out of the way in that."
"Oh, father! I will not be a party to such a degradation," burst out Henrietta, and she began to cry.
In the end, however, the royal exodus to the South End took place, and a new era of prosperity dawned upon the House of Hanover. By his arrangement with his new landlord, the King was enabled to keep up a more imposing state. He bought fresh liveries for his retainers and refitted his carriage. There was a report that he had made money in a grain corner. His anxious expression wore away, and he gained flesh.