Sport Royal, and Other Stories
I enjoyed myself very much. The princess was evidently, to judge from her conversation, a little Puritan, and I always love a pretty Puritan. That rogue Dumergue agreed with all her views, and the prince allowed his silence to pass for assent.
“We do try at court,” she ended by saying, “to set an example to society; and, as the king is unmarried, of course I have to do a great deal.”
At this moment, a servant entered, bearing a card on a salver. He approached the princess.
“A gentleman desires the honor of an audience with Her Royal Highness,” he announced.
“At this time of night!” exclaimed the princess.
“He says his business will not bear delay, and prays for a interview.”
“All business will bear delay,” said the prince, “and generally be the better for it. Who is he?”
“The Baron de Barbot.”
“Oh, I must see him,” cried the princess. “Why, he is a dear friend of ours.”
I had detected a rapid glance pass between Dumergue and the prince. The latter then answered:
“Yes, we must see Barbot. If you will go to the drawing room, I’ll take your message myself.”
“That is kind of you,” said the princess, retiring.
“Give me the card,” said the prince, “and ask the baron to be kind enough to wait a few minutes.”
The servant went out, and the prince turned to me.
“Why didn’t you kill him, Mr. Jason?” he asked.
“Is it – ” I began.
“Yes, it’s your baron,” said Dumergue.
“It’s really a little awkward,” said the prince, as though gently remonstrating with fate. “We had arranged it all so pleasantly.”
“It would upset the princess,” said Dumergue.
“What upsets the princess upsets me,” said the prince. “I am a devoted husband, Mr. Jason.”
“If there is anything I can do, sir,” said I, “rely on me.”
“You overwhelm me,” said the prince. “Is there anything, Dumergue?”
“Why, yes, sir. Mr. Jason was at the ball. Why should he have fought, if he wasn’t?”
“You are right, Dumergue. Mr. Jason, you were at the ball.”
“But, sir, I – I don’t know anything about the ball.”
“It was just like other balls – other masked balls,” said Dumergue.
“Perhaps a little more so,” added the prince, lighting a cigarette.
“There was a scandal at the last one,” Dumergue continued, “and the king strictly forbade anyone connected with the court to go, under pain of his severe displeasure. There had been a rumor that a royal prince was at the one before, and consequently – ”
“That royal prince was specially commanded not to go to this one,” said the prince.
“It was bad enough,” resumed Dumergue, “that it should be discovered that the princess’ favorite lady-in-waiting, the Countess von Hohstein – ”
“Who bore such a high character,” interjected the prince.
“Did go, and, moreover, went under the escort of an unknown gentleman – a gentleman whose name she refused to give.”
“Was that discovered?” said I.
“It was. This baron detected her, and, with a view, as we have reason to believe, to compelling her companion to declare himself, publicly insulted her.”
“Whereupon,” said the prince, “you very properly knocked him down, Mr. Jason.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“The princess,” continued Dumergue, “was terribly agitated and annoyed at the scandal and the duel which followed. And of course the countess left the court, and returned to England.”
“To England?”
“Yes; she was a Miss Mason. The king ennobled her at the princess’ request.”
I smiled and said:
“And now there is a question about who her escort was?”
“There is,” said Dumergue. “It is believed that the baron entertains an extraordinary idea that the gentleman in question was no other than – ”
“Myself,” said the prince, throwing away his cigarette.
I remembered the baron’s strange questions before the duel.
“Dispose of me as you please, sir,” said I.
“Then you were at the ball, and knocked the baron down!” exclaimed Dumergue.
“A thousand thanks,” said the prince.
“But what are we to do with him now, sir?” asked Dumergue. “The princess will be expecting him.”
“I will go and tell the princess of Mr. Jason’s confession. You go with Mr. Jason, and tell the baron that the princess cannot receive him. I want him to see Mr. Jason.”
“But, sir,” said I, “I didn’t fight under my own name.”
The prince was already gone, and Dumergue was halfway down the stairs. I followed the latter.
We found the baron in the smoking room, taking a cup of coffee. A couple of men sat talking on a settee near him; otherwise the room was empty.
Dumergue went up to the baron, I following a step or two behind him. The baron rose and bowed coldly.
“I am charged,” said Dumergue, “to express His Royal Highness’ regrets that Her Royal Highness cannot have the pleasure of receiving you. She has retired to her apartments.”
“The servant told me she was at supper.”
“He was misinformed.”
“I’m not to be put off like that. I’ll have a refusal from the princess herself.”
“I will inform His Royal Highness.”
The baron was about to answer, when he caught sight of me.
“Ah, there’s the jackal!” he said, with a sneer.
I stepped forward.
“Do you refer to me?” I asked.
“Unless I am wrong in recognizing my former antagonist, Colonel Despard.”
This was just what I had anticipated. Dumergue did not seem surprised either.
“Of course it is Colonel Despard,” he said. “You would not be likely to forget him, baron.”
We had been speaking in a low tone, but at Dumergue’s sneer, the baron lost his temper. Raising his voice, he said, almost in a shout:
“Then I tell Colonel Despard that he is a mean hound.”
If I assumed the colonel’s name, I felt I must at least defend it from imputations. I began:
“Once before, baron, I chastised – ”
I was interrupted. One of the men on the settee interposed, rising as he spoke.
“I beg pardon, gentlemen, but is it Colonel Despard of the Hussars to whom you refer?”
“Yes,” said the baron.
“Then that gentleman is not Colonel Despard,” announced our new friend. “I am Colonel Despard’s brother-in-law.”
For a moment I was at a loss; things were falling out so very unfortunately. Dumergue turned on the stranger fiercely:
“Pray, sir, was your interposition solicited?”
“Certainly not. But if this gentleman says he is Colonel Despard, I take leave to contradict him.”
“I should advise you to do nothing of the sort,” said I. “M. Dumergue knows me very well.”
“This person,” said the baron, “passed himself off as Colonel Despard, and, by that pretext, obtained from me the honor of a duel with me. It appears that he is a mere impostor.”
The other man on the settee called out cheerfully, “Bob, send for the police!”
Dumergue looked rather sheepish; his invention failed him.
“Do either or both of these gentlemen,” said I, indicating the baron and the colonel’s brother-in-law, “call me an impostor?”
“I do,” said the baron, with a sneering laugh.
“I am compelled to assert it,” said the other, with a bow.
I had edged near the little table, on which the baron’s coffee had been served. I now took up the coffee-pot and milk-jug. The coffee I threw in the baron’s face, and the milk in that of his ally. Both men sprang forward with an oath. At the same moment, the electric light went out, and I was violently pulled back toward the door, and someone whispered, “Vanish as quick as you can. Go home – go anywhere.”
“All right, sir,” said I, for I recognized the prince’s voice. “But what are they doing?”
“Never mind; be off.” And the prince handed me a hat.
I walked quickly to the door, and hailed a hansom. As I drove off, I saw the prince skip upstairs, and a posse of waiters rush toward the smoking room. I went home to bed.
The next morning, as I was breakfasting, my man told me two gentlemen were below, and wished to see me. I told him to show them up, and the prince and Dumergue came in, the former wrapped up in a fur coat, with a collar that hid most of his face.
“The prince would like some brandy in a little soda water,” said Dumergue.
I administered the cordial. The prince drank it, and then turned to me.
“Did you get home all right?” he asked.
“Perfectly, sir.”
“After you took leave of us, we had an explanation. Mr. Wetherington – it was Mr. Wetherington at whom you threw the milk – was very reasonable. I explained the whole matter, and he said he was sure his brother-in-law would pardon the liberty.”
“I’m afraid I took rather a liberty with him.”
“Oh,” said Dumergue, “we made him believe the milk was meant for the baron, as well as the coffee. I said we took it au lait at Glottenberg.”
“It’s lucky I thought of turning out the light,” said the prince. “I was looking on, and it seemed about time.”
“What did the hotel people say, sir?”
“They are going to sue the electric company,” said the prince, with a slight smile. “It seems there is a penalty if the light doesn’t work properly.”
“And the baron, sir?”
“We kicked the baron out as a blackmailer,” said Dumergue. “He is going to bring an action.”
“I return to Glottenberg to-day,” concluded the prince; “accompanied by the princess and M. Dumergue.”
I thought this course very prudent, and said so. “But,” I added, “I shall be called as a witness.”
“No; Colonel Despard will.”
“Well, then – ”
“He will establish an alibi. Voilà tout!”
“I am glad it all ends so happily, sir.”
“Well, there is one matter,” said the prince. “I had to tell the princess of your indiscretion in taking Mme. Vooght – ”
“Who, sir?”
“Mr. Jason,” put in Dumergue, “has not heard that the countess and Vooght are married.”
“Yes,” said the prince, “they are married, and will settle in America. Vooght is a loss; but we can’t have everything in this world.”
“I hope Herr Vooght will be happy,” said I.
“I should think it very unlikely,” said the prince. “But, to return. The princess is very angry with you. She insists – ”
“That I should never be presented to her again?”
“On the contrary; that you should come and apologize in person. Only on condition of bringing you again could I make my peace for bringing you once.”
I was very much surprised, but of course I said I was at the princess’ commands.
“You don’t mind meeting us in Paris? We stay there a few days,” said Dumergue.
“You see,” added the prince, “Dumergue says there are things called writs, and – ”
“I will be in Paris to-morrow, sir.”
“I shall be there to-day,” said the prince, rising.
CHAPTER III.
The Mission of the Ruby
I could not imagine why the princess desired to see me. It would have been much more natural to punish the impertinence of which I had no doubt been guilty – I mean, of which it was agreed on all hands that I had been guilty – by merely declining to receive me or see me again. Even the desire for a written apology would have been treating me as of too much account. But she wanted to see me. What I had heard of the princess’ character utterly forbade any idea which ought not to have been, but would have been, pleasant to entertain. No; she clearly wanted me, but what for I could not imagine.
When I went to claim my audience, the prince was not visible, nor Dumergue either, and I was at once received by the princess alone. She was looking smaller, and more simple and helpless than ever. I also thought her looking prettier, and I enjoyed immensely the pious, severe, forgiving little rebuke which she administered to me. I humbly craved pardon, and had no difficulty in obtaining it. Indeed, she became very gracious.
“You must come to Glottenberg,” she said, “in a few months’ time.”
“To obey Your Royal Highness’ commands will be a delightful duty,” said I, bowing.
She rose and stood by the fire, “toying” (as the novelists say) with her fan.
“You seem to be an obliging man, Mr. Jason,” she said. “You were ready to oblige Mme. Vooght.”
I made a gesture of half-serious protest.
“I wonder,” she continued, “if you would do me a little service.”
“I shall be most honored if I may hope to be able to,” said I. What did she want?
She blushed slightly, and, with a nervous laugh, said:
“It’s only a short story. When I was a young girl, I was foolish enough, Mr. Jason, to fall in love, or at least to think I did. There was a young English attaché– I know I can rely on your perfect discretion – at my father’s court, and he – he forgot the difference between us. He was a man of rank, though. Well, I was foolish enough to accept from him a very valuable ring – a fine ruby – quite a family heirloom. Of course, I never wore it, but I took it. And when I married, I – ”
She paused.
“Your Royal Highness had no opportunity of returning it?”
“Exactly. He had left the court. I didn’t know where he was, and – and the post was not quite trustworthy.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“I saw in the papers the other day that he was married. Of course I can’t keep it. His wife ought to have it – and I dare not – I would prefer not to – send it.”
“I see. You would wish me – ”
“To be my messenger. Will you?”
Of course I assented. She went into an adjoining room, and returned with a little morocco case. Opening it, she showed me a magnificent ruby, set in an old gold ring of great beauty.
“Will you give it him?” she said.
“Your Royal Highness has not told me his name?”
“Lord Daynesborough. You will be able to find him?”
“Oh, yes!”
“And you will – you will be careful, Mr. Jason?”
“He shall have it safely in three days. Any message with it, madame?”
“No. Yes – just my best wishes for his happiness.”
I bowed and prepared to withdraw.
“And you must come and tell me – ”
“I will come and make my report.”
“I do not know how to thank you.”
I kissed her hand and bowed myself out, mightily amused, and, maybe, rather touched at the revelation of this youthful romance. Somehow such things are always touching, stupid as they are for the most part. It pleased me to find that the little princess was flesh and blood.
She followed me to the door, and whispered, as I opened it:
“I have not troubled the prince with the matter.”
“Wives are so considerate,” thought I, as I went downstairs.
On arriving in England, I made inquiries about Lord Daynesborough. I found that it was seven years since he had abruptly thrown up his post of attaché, without cause assigned. After this event, he lived in retirement for some time, and then returned into society. Three months ago he had married Miss Dorothy Codrington, a noted beauty, with whom he appeared much in love, and had just returned from his wedding tour and settled down for the season at his house in Curzon Street. Hearing all this, I thought the little princess might have let well alone, and kept her ring; but her conduct was no business of mine, and I set about fulfilling my commission. I needed no one to tell me that Lady Daynesborough had better, as the princess would have phrased it, not be troubled with the matter.
I had no difficulty in meeting the young lord. In spite of the times we live in, a Jason is still a welcome guest in most houses, and before long he and I were sitting side by side at Mrs. Closmadene’s table. The ladies had withdrawn, and we were about to follow them upstairs. Daynesborough was a frank, pleasant fellow, and scorned the affectation of concealing his happiness in the married state. In fact, he seemed to take a fancy to me, and told me that he would like me to come and see him at home.
“Then,” he said, “you will cease to distrust marriage.”
“I shall be most glad to come,” I answered, “more especially as I want a talk with you.”
“Do you? About what?”
“I have a message for you.”
“You have a message for me, Mr. Jason? Forgive me, but from whom?”
I leaned over toward him, and whispered, “The Princess Ferdinand of Glottenberg.”
The man turned as white as a sheet, and, gripping my hand, said under his breath:
“Hush! Surely you – you haven’t – she hasn’t sent it?”
“Yes, she has,” said I.
“Good God! After seven years!”
General Closmadene rose from his chair. Daynesborough drank off a very large “white-wash,” and added:
“Come to dinner to-morrow – eight o’clock. We shall be alone; and, for Heaven’s sake, say nothing.”
I said nothing, and I went to dinner, carrying the ruby ring in my breast-pocket. But I began to wonder whether the little princess was quite as childlike as she seemed.
Lady Daynesborough dined with us. She was a tall, slender girl; very handsome, and, to judge from her appearance, not wanting in resolution and character. She was obviously devoted to her husband, and he treated her with an affectionate deference that seemed to me almost overdone. It was like the manner of a man who is remorseful for having wounded someone he loves.
When she left us, he returned to the table, and, with a weary sigh, said:
“Now, Mr. Jason, I am ready.”
“My task is a very short one,” said I. “I have no message except to convey to you the princess’ best wishes for your happiness on your marriage, of which she has recently heard, and to give you the ring. Here it is.”
“Have women no mercy?” groaned he.
“I beg your pardon?” said I, rather startled.
“She waits seven years – seven years without a word or a sign – and then sends it! And why?”
“Because you’re married.”
“Exactly. Isn’t it – devilish?”
“Not at all. It’s strictly correct. She said herself that your wife was the proper person to have the ring now.”
He looked at me with a bitter smile.
“My dear Jason,” he said, “I have been flattering your acumen at the expense of your morality. I thought you knew what this meant.”
“No more than what the princess told me.”
“No, of course not, or you would not have brought it. When we parted, I gave her the ring, and she made me promise, on my honor as a gentleman, to come to her the moment she sent the ring – to leave everything and come to her, and take her away. And I promised.”
“And she has never sent till now?”
“I never married till now,” he said bitterly. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
He rose, went to a writing table, and came back with a fat paper book – a Continental Bradshaw.
“You’re not going?” I exclaimed.
“Oh, yes! I promised.”
“You promised something to your wife too, didn’t you?”
“I can’t argue it. I must go and see what she wants. I – I hope she’ll let me come back.”
I tried to dissuade him. I know I told him he was a fool; I think I told him he was a scoundrel. I was not sure of the second, but I thought it wisest to pretend that I was.
“I hope it will be all right,” he said, again and again; “but, right or wrong, I must go.”
I took an immediate resolution.
“I suppose you’ll go by the eleven-o’clock train to Paris to-morrow?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, you’re wrong. Good-night.”
At twelve o’clock the next day I called in Curzon Street, and sent in my card to Lady Daynesborough.
She saw me at once. I expect that she fancied I had something to do with her husband’s sudden departure. She was looking pale and dispirited, and I rather thought she had been crying. Her husband, it appeared, had told her that he had to go to Paris on business, and would be back in three days.
“He didn’t tell you what it was?”
“No. Some public affairs, I understood.”
“Lady Daynesborough,” said I, “you hardly know me, but my name tells you I am a gentleman.”
She looked at me in surprise.
“Why, of course, Mr. Jason. But what has that to do – ”
“I can’t explain. But, if you are wise, you will come with me to Paris.”
“Go with you to Paris! Oh! is he in danger?”
“In danger of making a fool of himself. Now, I’ll say nothing more. Will you come?”
“It will look very strange.”
“Very.”
“In fact – most unusual.”
“Most.”
“Won’t there be a – a – scandal, if – ”
“Sure to be. Will you come?”
“You must have a reason,” she said. “I will come.”
We started that evening, nine hours after My Lord, going separately to the station, and meeting on the boat. All through the journey she scarcely spoke a word. When we were nearing Paris, she asked:
“Do you know where he is?”
“No; but I can trace him,” I replied.
So I could. I bought a paper, and found that Prince and Princess Ferdinand had, the day before, proceeded from Paris en route for Glottenberg. Of course Daynesborough had followed them.
“We must go on,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because your husband has gone on.”
She obeyed me like a lamb; but there was a look about her pretty mouth that made me doubt if Daynesborough would find her like a lamb.
We went to the principal hotel in Glottenberg. I introduced Lady Daynesborough as my sister, Miss Jacynth Jason, and stated that she was in weak health, and would keep her room for the present. Then I sallied forth, intent on discovering Dumergue; he would be able to post me up in the state of affairs.
On my way, I met the king taking his daily drive. He was a dour, sour-looking, pasty-faced creature, and I quite understood that he would fail to appreciate many of my prince’s characteristics. A priest sat by him, and a bystander told me it was the king’s confessor (the Glottenberg family are all of the old church), and added that the king’s confessor was no mean power in the state. I asked him where M. Dumergue was lodged, and he directed me to Prince Ferdinand’s palace, which stood in a pleasant park in the suburbs of the town.
I found Dumergue in a melancholy condition, though he professed to be much cheered by the sight of me.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “you, if anybody, can get us out of this.”
“I never knew such people,” said I. “What’s up now?”
“There has been a – an explosion. Did you ever hear of Daynesborough?”
I said no, and Dumergue told me of the princess’ former penchant for him.
“Well?” said I.
“Well, she’s invited him here, and he’s now in the palace. You may imagine the prince’s feelings.”
“I suppose the prince can turn him out?”
Dumergue shook his head dolefully.
“She holds the trumps,” he answered. “Jason, she’s a clever woman. We thought we had hoodwinked her. When Daynesborough turned up, looking, I’m bound to say, very sheepish, the prince was really quite annoyed. He told the princess that she must send him away. She refused flatly. ‘Then I shall consult my brother,’ says the prince. ‘I shall consult the king too,’ said the princess. ‘It’s indecent,’ said he. ‘It’s not as bad as taking my ladies to masked balls in disguise,’ she answered. ‘Oh, you think you imposed on me – you and that clumsy young animal (forgive me, my dear fellow), Jason. I am not an idiot. I knew all the time. And now the king will know too – unless Lord Daynesborough stays just as long as I like.’”
“Confound her!” said I.
“There it is,” he went on. “The prince is furious, the princess triumphant, and Daynesborough in possession.”
“What does he mean to do?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Who can tell? She’s a little devil. Fancy pretending to be deceived, and then turning on us like this! You should have heard her describe you, my boy!” and Dumergue chuckled in sad pleasure.
I object to being ridiculed, especially by women. I determined to take a hand in the game. I wondered if they knew that Daynesborough was married.
“I suppose this young Daynesborough enjoys himself?”
“Well, he ought to. He’s got nothing to lose; but he seems a melancholy, glum creature. I think he must be one of the king’s kidney.”
“Or married, perhaps?” I suggested airily.
“Oh, no! She wouldn’t have him here, if he were married.”
I saw that Dumergue did not yet appreciate the princess in whose household he had the honor to serve.
“She won’t compromise herself, I suppose?”
“Not she!” he replied regretfully. “She may compromise the prince.”
I rebuked him for his cynicism, and promised to consider and let him know if anything occurred to me. My hope lay in Daynesborough. I could see that he was galant malgré lui, and I thought I could persuade him that he had done all that his mistaken promise fairly entailed on him; or, if I could not convince him, I had a suspicion that his wife might, could, and would, in a very peremptory fashion, if I brought about an encounter between them. I was full of eagerness, for, apart from my zeal in the cause of morality and domestic happiness, I did not approve of being called a clumsy young animal. It was neither true nor witty; and surely abuse ought to be one or the other, if it is to be distinguished from mere vulgar scurrility.
