Long Live the King - Guy Boothby (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📗

the streets crowded to their utmost holding capacity. Signs of mourning were to be observed on every hand. Short though the notice had been, the majority of the houses were draped in black, while overhead sounded the mournful tolling of bells. At the entrance to the city I gave up my horse, and for the remainder of the distance followed the _cortege_ my suite, the governor of the city and his staff, the chief burgomaster and his councillors, imitating my example. As we passed slowly along the Graben towards the cathedral, I recalled the night when Max and I, with our father and mother, had said good-bye to the capital, and had gone into exile. My father and mother had never seen their country again, and now Max was coming back to it, unconscious of the fact, to take his last long rest in the old grey cathedral in which so many of our race lay buried. Slowly and solemnly, to the accompaniment of wailing bands, we crossed the King's Square and approached the majestic pile, whose roofs and parapets towered above us, thickly coated with snow. The deep tones of the bell echoed mournfully in the gathering darkness, while the troops that lined the streets presented arms, and the crowd stood bareheaded as we passed. At last we reached the foot of the cathedral steps, where the white-robed clergy, with the archbishop--the same who had baptised us--at their head, were waiting to receive us. The coffin having been removed from the hearse, and a new procession formed, we entered the church and passed up the central aisle, to the music of the Dead March, towards the spot where a catafalque had been prepared for the lying-in-state. Upon this we placed the casket that contained the remains of our dear one, and when a short service had been conducted, and the guard of honour mounted, we left the cathedral and returned, through the still waiting crowd, to the palace on the other side of the square. On the morrow and the next day there was to be a public lying-in-state; and on the day following, the funeral would take place. In the meantime there was much for us to do. There were the representatives of the various European sovereigns to be received and lodged, the precedence of each to be settled, and their positions allotted by the chamberlains; while there was also the progress of the war, to which it was necessary that I should give almost unremitting attention. Fortunately, however, that was nearly at an end. Indeed, it was as if Max's death had set the final seal upon it. As a matter of fact, it was rumoured that proposals for peace were already in course of formation, and were soon to be submitted. Later in the evening came the news by telegram that Ottilie and her father had crossed the Channel, and were on their way to Pannonia. I had scarcely received it when old Antoine, my ever-faithful groom of the chambers, entered my study to inform me that the Count von Marquart had arrived at the palace, and craved an audience with me.

"Admit him at once," I said; and, indeed, I was glad to see him. His devotion to our House had never wavered. He had been one of the first to greet me on my return to Pannonia, and it seemed only fit and proper that he should hasten to my side when I was in such dire distress as now. Needless to say I greeted him most cordially, and I could see that he was much touched by my reception of him.

"This is a sad meeting indeed," said he, as I gave him my hand. "It has affected me more deeply than I can say."

I could see that what he said was true, for the old man, as he stood before me, was visibly overcome. He asked me certain questions concerning all that had transpired, and furnished me with an outline of the various arrangements he had made. Never before had I realised the extent of the ceremonial which must be observed in such cases. We were still discussing this important matter when Antoine, with a scared expression upon his face, an expression which even his long training could not conceal, entered the room. Through the half-open door I could see old Strekwitz, the Grand Chamberlain, and several people standing outside. Something was undoubtedly wrong, but what that something was I could not even conjecture.

"The Count von Strekwitz craves an audience," said Antoine, more abruptly, I think, than he had ever addressed me before.

"Ask him to be good enough to see me in the morning," I answered sharply. "Do you not notice that I am engaged with the Count von Marquart?"

"But, your Majesty, he states that his business is of the most important nature," Antoine persisted. "He implores you to see him at once, and says that there is not a moment to lose."

"Something has evidently gone wrong with his arrangements," said von Marquart. "Perhaps it would be as well if he were admitted."

"As you please, as you please," I continued, I am afraid, with a little irritation. Then, pulling out my watch, I added, as I looked at it, "It is nearly eleven o'clock. What possible business can he have with me that will not keep until the morning?"

"You will very soon discover," the Count replied. "Perhaps you would wish me to withdraw?"

"By no means," I answered. "It is possible I may stand in need of your advice."

A moment later Strekwitz entered the room, and from the moment that I looked at his face I saw that, whatever his news might be, it was certain he had not disturbed me without good cause. The man was more upset than I had ever yet seen him; his face was as white as the paper upon which I am now writing, while his hand, when he rested it upon the table beside which he stood, shook so that the pens upon the pen-rack trembled and rattled against each other.

"Well, Count, what is the matter?" I inquired. "What brings you here at this hour of the night?"

"The saddest news possible," he replied. "I scarcely know how to tell your Highness."

On hearing this a great fear took possession of me. What was I to learn? Could any disaster have befallen Ottilie? Had that been so, however, von Marquart would have known it before Strekwitz, and I should have heard before both; but it was impossible to be logical at such a moment. When next I spoke I scarcely recognised my own voice, so anxious was it.

"There is nothing to be gained by beating about the bush," I said. "Whatever your tidings may be, let me know the worst. Have you bad news concerning the Princess?"

He shook his head.

"No, it does not concern her Highness," he answered, "yet I fear it will distress your Majesty as much. For my own part, I do not know what to think."

"For goodness sake, man, get on with what you have to say," I answered. "Can't you see how you are distressing me? Let me hear your story at once."

"Your Majesty gave me orders to make the necessary arrangements for the lying-in-state of your lamented brother."

"I did," I replied. "What of that? I know you better than to imagine that you have failed in your duties. What has occurred?"

"Your Majesty informed me that you had brought the body from Zaarfburg?"

"I did. And you were present when it was admitted to the cathedral. What has happened since? Why do you not speak, man?"

"I fear that I must so far contradict your Majesty as to say that I was not present when it was admitted to the cathedral. A great crime has been committed. I mean that it cannot be laid in state, _since it is not there_!"

"Not there?" I cried, springing to my feet, scarcely able to believe that I had heard aright. "What do you mean by making such a statement? What makes you say such a thing? Are you not aware that I brought it with me from Zaarfburg?"

"I venture to say that it is not there," he returned. "The necessary preparations were made in my presence. On opening the coffin, however, we were amazed to find it empty, save for a few heavy weights. If the body had ever been placed in it while in the city, it must have been removed, either there or _en route_ for this place."

"My God! what can this mean?" I cried. "Can you swear, Strekwitz, that what you say is correct? Be careful, for I give you my word I am in no mood to be played with."

"Your Majesty should know me well enough by this time to be aware that I would not trifle with you upon such a matter," he answered, somewhat reproachfully. "It has caused me the acutest sorrow. Alas! however, it is as I state."

"In that case what is to be done?"

For the moment the news stunned me, but it was not very long before I realised its dread importance. Von Marquart must also have done so, for once more came the question, this time from him: "What is to be done?" We had not only ourselves, and the country, but the whole of Europe to consider. Von Marquart was the first to recover his composure. Turning to Strekwitz, he said,--

"How many people know this?"

From what the other said it appeared that there were only three people in the secret, in which number he included himself. As soon as the direful discovery was made he had been quick to insist upon the others keeping the intelligence to themselves. He had been so imperative on this point that there was very little fear, he assured me, of their making mischief. To make sure, however, I gave orders that they should be admitted to my presence in the morning, that I might further caution them. Then addressing myself to von Marquart, I said:

"My poor brother's body must be recovered at any cost. But that will take time, and how are we to set about the task? To offer a reward would only be to publish the news abroad."

"Impossible, your Majesty, impossible," von Marquart replied. "In the interests of the country that is not to be thought of. It would be taken as a bad omen, and until the dynasty has been more firmly established, public opinion must be considered before everything else. Let us review the facts of the case and endeavour to discover when and where the crime could have been perpetrated. Where did your Majesty see the dead man for the last time?"

"In the clockmaker's house at Zaarfburg," I replied.

"And the house itself?"

"Was closely guarded," I answered. "From the house the coffin was conveyed to the city hall, where it lay until we started on the journey here."

"Would it have been possible, think you, for it to have been tampered with while at the city hall?"

"Quite impossible, I should say. There were guards at the entrance to the room itself, and sentries were posted at the great doors below. In fact, I would be prepared to swear that no one entered the room save myself and my brother's faithful friend."

"Your brother's friend?" von Marquart repeated suspiciously. "Who is he? Perhaps he can throw some light upon the affair."

This point had never struck me, and I thereupon told Strekwitz to summon Bertram to my presence without delay. He did so, and a