The Goose Girl - Harold MacGrath (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

the contact of wood against steel, and his hair was damp at the edges. This was a bit of old war-times.

"Are you hurt, Excellency?" asked the clerk solicitously.

"Hurt?"

"Yes. I heard a woman scream and ran to the window. It was a good fight. But that fellow-ach! To run away and leave you, an outsider, to fight his battle!"

"He would have been sliced in two if I hadn't come to the front. A hop-pole isn't half bad. I'll bet that lady's man has a bad arm for some time to come. As for the vintner, he had good reasons for taking to his heels."

"Good reasons?" But there was a sly look in the clerk's eyes.

"No questions, if you please. And tell no one, mind, what has taken place."

"Very well, Excellency." And quietly the clerk returned to his table of figures. But later he intended to write a letter, unsigned, to his serene highness.

Carmichael, scowling, undertook to answer his mail, but not with any remarkable brilliancy or coherency.

And in this condition of mind Grumbach found him; Grumbach, accompanied by the old clock-mender from across the way, and a Gipsy Carmichael had never seen before.

"What's up, Hans?"

"Tell your clerk to leave us," said Grumbach, his face as barren of expression as a rock.

"Something serious, eh?" Carmichael dismissed the clerk, telling him to return after the noon hour. "Now, then," he said, "what is the trouble?"

"I have already spoken to you about it," Grumbach returned. "The matter has gone badly. But I am here to ask a favor, a great favor, one that will need all your diplomacy to gain for me."

"Ah"

"For myself I ask nothing. A horrible blunder has been made. You will go to the grand duke and ask immunity for this Gipsy and this clock-mender, as witnesses to the disclosure which I shall make to his highness. Without this immunity my lips will be sealed for ever. As I said, I ask nothing for myself, nothing. There has been a great blunder and a great wrong, too; but God sent me here to right it. Will you do this?"

"But I must know-," began Carmichael.

"You will know everything, once you obtain this concession from the duke."

"But why don't you want immunity for yourself?"

"There must be some one for the duke to punish," heroically; "otherwise he will refuse."

"Still, suppose I bargain for you, too?"

"When you tell him my name is Breunner there will be no bargaining."

"What has this clock-mender to do with the case?"

"He is Count von Arnsberg."

"By George! And this Gipsy?"

"The man who bribed me. Arnsberg is an innocent man; but this has to be proved, and you are going to help us prove it."

All this was in English; the Gipsy and the former chancellor understood little or nothing.

"I will do what I can, Hans, and I will let you know the result after dinner to-night."

"That will be enough. But unless he concedes, do not tell him our names. That would be ruin and nothing gained."

"You have me a bit dazed," Carmichael admitted. "I ought to know what this blunder is, to have something to stand on."

Grumbach shook his head. "Later every question will be answered. And remember, at this interview Herbeck must not be present. It will have to be broken to him gently."

"Very well; I promise to see his highness this afternoon."

Grumbach translated the substance of this dialogue to his companions. They approved. The three of them solemnly trooped out, leaving Carmichael bewildered. Alone, his mind searched a thousand channels, but these were blind and led nowhere. Blunder, wrong? What did Grumbach mean by that? What kind of a blunder, and who was innocently wronged? No use! And while he was thus racking his mind he heard steps on the stairs. These steps were hurried. The door above shut noisily.

"By George! I'll attend to that this minute. We'll see what stuff this yellow-haired boy is made of."

He mounted the stairs without sound. He grasped the handle of the door, boldly pushed it open, and entered, closing the door and placing his back against it.

The instant he saw the intruder the vintner snatched a pistol from the drawer in the table and leveled it at Carmichael.

"Surely your majesty will not shoot an old friend?"


[Illustration: "Surely your Majesty will not shoot an old friend?"]


CHAPTER XX

THE KING


The vintner slowly lowered the pistol till it touched the table; then he released it.

"That is better, your Majesty."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Certainly I do not utter it as a compliment," retorted Carmichael dryly.

"You speak positively."

"With absolute authority on the subject, sire. Your face was familiar, but I failed at first to place it rightly. It was only after you had duped me into going after the veiled lady that I had any real suspicion. You are Frederick Leopold of Jugendheit."

"I shall not deny it further," proudly. "And take care how you speak to me, since I admit my identity."

"Oho!" Carmichael gave rein to his laughter. "This is Ehrenstein; here I shall talk to you as I please."

The king reddened, and his hand closed again over the pistol.

"I have saved your majesty twice from death. You force me to recall it to your mind."

The king had the grace to lower his eyes.

"The first time was at Bonn. Don't you recollect the day when an American took you out of the Rhine, an American who did not trouble himself to come round and ask for your thanks, who, in truth, did not learn till days after what an important person you were, or were going to be?" There was a bite in every word, for Carmichael felt that he had been ill-treated.

"For that moment, Herr, I thank you."

"And for that in the garden below?"

"For that also. Now, why are you here? You have not come for the purpose of recalling these two disagreeable incidents to my mind."

"No." Carmichael went over to the table, his jaws set and no kindly spirit in his eyes. "No, I have another purpose." He bent over the table, and with his face close to that of the king, "I demand to know what your intentions are toward that friendless goose-girl."

"And what is that to you?" said the king, the smoke of anger in his eyes.

"It is this much: if you have acted toward her otherwise than honorably-Well!"

"Go on; you interest me!"

"Well, I promise to break every bone in your kingly body. In this room it is man to man; I recognize no king, only the physical being."

The king pushed aside the table, furious. No living being had ever spoken to him like that before. He swung the flat of his hand toward Carmichael's face. The latter caught the hand by the wrist and bore down upon it. The king was no weakling. There was a struggle, and Carmichael found himself well occupied for a time. But his age and build were in his favor, and presently he jammed the king to the wall and pinioned his arms.

"There! Will you be patient for a moment?"

"You shall die for this insult!" said the king, as quietly as his hard breathing would allow. He saw flashes of red between his face and the other's.

"I have heard that before. But how?" banteringly.

"I will waive my crown; man to man!"

"Sword-sticks, sabers or hop-poles? Come," savagely, "what do you mean by the goose-girl?"

So intent on the struggle were they that neither heard the door open and close.

"Yes, my dear nephew; what do you mean by Gretchen?"

Carmichael released the king, and with feline quickness stooped and secured the pistol which had fallen to the floor. Not sure of the new arrival's purpose, he backed to the wall. He knew the voice and he recognized its owner.

"Put it in your pocket, Mr. Carmichael. And let us finish this discussion in English, since there are many ears about the place."

"His royal highness?" murmured the king.

"Yes, sire! True to life!"

Carmichael dropped the pistol into a pocket, and the king smoothed down his crumpled sleeves.

"A fine comedy!" cried Herr Ludwig jovially, folding his arms over his deep chest. "A rollicking adventure! Where's the story-book to match it? A kingdom, working in the dark, headless; fine reading for these sneaking journalists! Thunder and blazes!" with an amiability which had behind it a good leaven of despair. "Well, nephew, you have not as yet answered either Mr. Carmichael's question or my own. What do you mean by Gretchen?"

"I love her," nobly. "And well for you, my uncle, that you come as you do. I would have married her! Wrong her? What was a crown to me who, till now, have never worn one save in speech? You have been the king."

"Bodies must have heads, kingdoms must have kings. I have tried an experiment, and this is the result. I wanted you to be a man, a human man; I wanted you to grow up unfettered by power; I wanted you to mingle with peoples, here and there, so, when you became their head physician, you could ably minister to their political diseases. And all this fine ambition tumbles down before the wooden shoes of a pretty goose-girl. Nothing makes so good a philosopher as a series of blunders and mistakes. I am beaten; I admit it. I did my best to save you from this tangle; but it was written that you should put your foot in it. But on top of this you have made a greater mistake than you dream of, nephew. The Princess Hildegarde is as fine a woman as ever your Gretchen. Mr. Carmichael will agree to that," maliciously.

Carmichael gave no sign that he understood; but there was no mistaking the prince regent's inference, however. The recipient of this compliment stubbornly refused to give the prince the satisfaction of seeing how neatly the barb had gone home.

"But, Mr. Carmichael, what is your interest in Gretchen?"

Carmichael trembled with joy. Here was an opening for a double shot. "My interest in her is better than yours, for I have not asked her to become a king's mistress."

His royal highness bit his lip.

"Uncle!" cried the king, horrified at this revelation.

"Mr. Carmichael evidently has applied his ear to some keyhole."

"No, thank you! The window was open. My clerk heard you plainly."

"Uncle, is this damnable thing true?"

"Yes. What would you? You were determined to make a fool of yourself. But rest easy. She is ignorant where this offer came from, and, moreover, she spurned it, as Mr. Carmichael's clerk will affirm. Oh, Gretchen is a fine little woman, and I would to God she was of your station!" And the mask fell from the regent's face, leaving it bitter and careworn. "Our presence is known in Dreiberg; it has been known for three days at least. And in coming up here I had another errand. Oh, I haven't forgotten it. In the street there are at least ten soldiers under the sub-chief of the police; rather a curious conjunction."

The king turned white. So it had come at last!

Carmichael ran to the