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This grisly narrative gave me a sharp shock, I confess. And I must have betrayed my state of mind, for the Chief Constable favoured me with a smile of rea.s.surance.
"Put your trust in the Middleshire police," said he, "with a little a.s.sistance from the Yard. They won't play that game twice with us, you can depend upon it. If the Yard had not been rather late with their information they would never have played it at all. Our people were actually on the way to the Grange when the outrage was committed."
For all the air of professional rea.s.surance, the married man, the father of the family, and the county member was thoroughly alarmed.
"It is all very well, Coverdale, but what guarantee is there that even at this moment they are not dropping bombs into our bedrooms?"
"Four men in plain clothes are patrolling your park, and will continue to do so as long as the Princess remains under your roof."
It would have been ungrateful not to express relief for this official vigilance. But that it was felt in any substantial measure is more than I can affirm.
"Of course, my dear fellow," said Fitz, "now that you are in possession of all the facts of the case, you have a perfect right to withdraw the offer of your hospitality. Coverdale and I are agreed that it will do much to promote my wife's safety for the time being, because this house will be kept under continual observation. But as soon as I can make other arrangements I shall do so, of course. And if you really believe that the safety of your house and family is involved, we shall have no alternative but to go at once."
To what length ought we to carry our altruism? Here was a grave problem for the married man, the father of the family, and the county member. In spite of the opinion of the cool-headed and sagacious Coverdale, I could not allay the feeling that to harbour the "Stormy Petrel" was to incur a grave risk. But at the same time it was not in me to turn her adrift into the highways and hedges.
"Now that we have had due warning of what to expect," said Coverdale, "these gentry will not find it quite so easy to throw bombs in this country as they do in Illyria. And if I thought for one moment you were not justified in extending your hospitality to the Princess I should certainly say so."
Events are generally too strong for the humble mortals who are content to tread the path of mediocrity. We had already offered sanctuary to the Crown Princess of Illyria. A little painful reflection seemed to show that to revoke it now would be rather inhuman and rather cowardly.
All the same, it was impossible to view with enthusiasm the prospect of four men in plain clothes continually patrolling the park.
"By the way," said the Chief Constable, "you will, I hope, treat this business of the bombs as strictly confidential. It won't help matters at all to find it in the morning papers."
"I appreciate that; but won't the servants be rather curious about those four sportsmen in plain clothes?"
"Ostensibly they are there to look after a gang of burglars who are expected in the neighbourhood."
"Not exactly a plausible story, I am afraid!"
"The story doesn't matter, so long as they don't suspect the truth.
And as Mrs. Fitzwaren's _incognito_ has been so well kept, there is no reason why they should."
So much for the latest development of this amazing situation. From the very moment the curtain had risen upon the first act of the tragi-comedy of the Fitzwarens I had seemed to be cast for the uncomfortable _role_ of the weak soul in the toils of fate. From the beginning it had been contrary to the promptings of the small voice within that I had borne a part in their destinies. And here they were established under my roof, a menace to my household and the enemies of all peace of mind.
It only remained to make the best of things and to hope devoutly that Fitz would soon arrange to relieve us of the presence of the "Stormy Petrel." But in spite of all the dark knowledge it was necessary to keep locked up in one's heart, there was an aspect of the matter which was rather charming. To watch the lion and the lamb lying down together, a veritable De Vere Vane-Anstruther playing hostess to the fair _equestrienne_ from a continental circus was certainly pleasant.
I think it is up to me to admit that at the core Mrs. Arbuthnot is as sound as a bell. Certainly her demeanour towards her guests was faultless. Indeed, it made me feel quite proud of her to reflect that had she really known the true status of our visitor she could have done nothing more for her comfort and for that of her _entourage_. Her foibles were condoned and "her little foreign ways" were yielded to in the most gracious manner; and after dinner that evening it was a great moment when our distinguished guest volunteered to accompany on the piano her hostess's light contralto.
I took this to be symbolical of the complete harmony in which the day had been spent. Confirmation of this was forthcoming an hour later, when we had the drawing-room to ourselves.
"Really she is not half such a trial as I feared she would be," Mrs.
Arbuthnot confessed.
"If you meet people fairly and squarely half-way," said I, in my favourite _role_ of the hearthrug philosopher, "there are surprisingly few with whom you can't find something in common."
"Perhaps there is such a thing as being too fastidious."
"We are apt to draw the line a little close at times, eh?"
"Some of these Bohemians must be rather interesting in their way," said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
"No doubt they have some sort of a standard to which they try to conform," said I, with excellent gravity.
"Of course she is not _exactly_ a lady. Yet in some ways she is _rather_ nice. Doesn't look at things in the way we do, of course.
Awfully unconventional in some of her ideas."
"By unconventional you mean continental, I presume?"
"No, not continental exactly. At least, I was 'finished' in Dresden, but I didn't learn anything of that kind."
"Had you been 'finished' in an Austrian circus perhaps you might have done."
"I hardly think so. They don't seem to be ideas you could pick up. I should think you would have to be born with them. They seem somehow to belong to your past--to your ancestors."
"It has not occurred to me that circus-riders were troubled with ancestors."
"Hardly, perhaps, in the sense that we mean. But there is something rather fine in their way of looking at things."
"A good type of Bohemian would you say?"
"Surprisingly so in some ways. She doesn't seem to care a bit about money and she is absolutely devoted to Fitz. She doesn't seem to care a bit about jewels, either. She has got some positively gorgeous things, and if there is anything I care to have she hopes I'll take it.
Of course I shall do nothing of the kind, but I should just love to have them all."
"She appears to have had her admirers in Vienna, evidently."
"That is what one can't make out. She has three tiaras, and they must be priceless."
"Nonsense, _mon enfant_. Even the glamour of the sawdust a thousand times reflected cannot trans.m.u.te paste into the real thing."
"But the odd part of it is they _are_ real. I am convinced of it; and Adele, my maid, who was two years with dear Evelyn, is absolutely sure."
"Is it conceivable that the possessor of three diamond tiaras would choose to jump for a livelihood through a hoop in pink tights?"
"Yes, I know it's absurd. But nothing will convince me that her diamonds are not real."
"And she offered you the pick of them?"
"The pick of everything except the smallest of the three tiaras, which she thought perhaps her father might not like her to part with."
"One would have thought that he would at least have set his affections upon the largest of the three."
"Really, I can hardly swallow the circus."
"You haven't by any chance asked her the question?"
"Dear no! One wouldn't like to ask a question of that sort unless one knew her quite well. I don't think she was ever in a circus at all.
Or if she was, she may have been a sort of foundling."
"Stolen by gipsies from the ancestral castle in her infancy. After all, there is nothing to prevent her father being a duke."