The Game and the Candle Part 10

"Monsieur Allard, if you will indeed a.s.sist us!" welcomed the captain gratefully. "Consider that we sail in an hour, and the moments are going. His Royal Highness does not accept an excuse instead of a result."

"Delighted," Allard responded, nodding an acknowledgment of the sergeant's equally relieved salute. "Officer, can I translate for you?

His Royal Highness is not on board, but I am his secretary--"

Oh, Stanief was very thorough! The cards Vladimir had presented were waiting for their owner to use on the occasion.

"You are very kind, Mr. Allard," said the deferential officer, reading the square of pasteboard. "You see, we received a telephone call from up the river at Peekskill, asking us to get a better description of the clothes that were stolen by an escaping convict. They've picked up a coat, but it looks rather different from what would be expected. In fact, there was a man inside of it; but he says he lost his hat in the wind, and they haven't yet got the prison people to identify him."

It was so long since Allard had really laughed that he startled himself, but the humor of the situation was too much.

"I think you want to see the Grand Duke's valet," he explained, and translated for the others.

Petro was hurriedly sent for, and the fuming captain left the affair in charge of the two young men.

"Poor wretch; hope he gives them a run," commented Vasili. "Last year, at home, I had to ride second-cla.s.s on a crowded train. In the compartment was just such a case as this man's,--convict being taken back to a fortress. We rode ten miles, twenty; suddenly he spoke to me as naturally as possible. 'You know what I'm going to; give me a cigar,'

he said, just like that. I gave his guards a ruble, gave him a cigar, and went on reading my _Figaro_. Before we reached the next station, just over a deep ravine, he flung himself right through the door and down. Always felt glad I gave him the cigar."

There was a curious unreality in the scene for one of the actors, as he leaned listening against the rail in the warm April sunshine, Vasili chatting gaily by his side and the imperturbable policeman opposite. But he answered the little lieutenant's last sentence with a very sympathetic glance of comprehension.

Petro appeared presently, and Allard gravely repeated a description of the famous rain coat, giving the name of the English firm that had made it.

"Thank you, sir," said the satisfied officer, snapping shut his note-book. "Much obliged. You've no objection if your name gets to the papers, sir?"

Allard thought of Robert.

"Why, no, none at all. But I have done nothing."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"And now?" queried Vasili. "Shall we go back and chat, or first go over the yacht? Unless you know it already, of course; I forget you are an old friend of his Royal Highness."

"Let us go over the yacht, if you will," Allard evaded, not at all certain of what Stanief might please to a.s.sert. He sighed relievedly, hearing the puff of the launch below. "We can rest afterward."

Vasili contemplated him reflectively, inwardly deciding that Stanief's American must have been very ill indeed to be so easily tired. But he led the way below, charmed with the new companionship, and they wandered together over the costly floating toy.

They ended in the general salon, and Allard's long-starved eyes went eagerly to the magazines and newspapers littering the table.

"Pleasant place," a.s.sented Vasili to the expression, dropping into an easy-chair. "And you will usually find some of us here. Of course, Count Rosal is ash.o.r.e now with the Grand Duke, but he will be enchanted to learn that you are going with us. These voyages nearly kill him with ennui. He likes fast horses and fast motorcars, and the Theatre Francais."

"Then why does he come?" Allard inquired interestedly.

"Why? There is a question! Because he is the Grand Duke's aide, because he wants to win favor with the man who will rule the country by the time we reach it."

"Why, the Emperor--"

Vasili raised one eyebrow significantly.

"Of course, if you do not want to talk," in slightly injured tones. "But every one knows that the Emperor is dying."

Allard summoned his recollections of affairs European, doubtfully allowing for the gap of more than two years.

"The Grand Duke Feodor is the Emperor's nephew, not his son," he objected.

"Oh, he will only be regent, certainly," was the dry reply. "Never mind; I told you I understood nothing of politics."

Allard opened his lips to avow equal ignorance, then closed them. He had no idea of the role Stanief designed for him, or of what he was supposed to know. He moved to the table, instead of answering, and let his gaze devour the topmost paper of the pile. Vasili watched him, deeply impressed by the reticence and a little anxious as to his own frankness.

When Allard again turned to him, the lieutenant welcomed the amity with relief and joyously accepted the suggestion of return to the deck.

The morning wore on quietly. The preparations for sailing were completed; the yacht poised restlessly like a snowy bird on the point of flight. Allard no less quivered with the restless desire for departure, the thirst for the peace which would come with absolute security. Lying in his chair, regarding the teeming river shut in on either side by the two great cities and feeling all alike hostile toward him, he clung almost superst.i.tiously to the phrase of the night before:

"A Stanief guards his own."

And not all content with bare liberty, he treasured the being no longer an outlaw; he had learned the old primitive ache of the "masterless man."

Near noon a tiny boat darted from sh.o.r.e. The captain hurried to the head of the miniature stairway; Vasili uttered a hasty excuse and also went in that direction. Allard hesitated, in some doubt before this new etiquette, then judged by the others' att.i.tude and remained where he was.

As Stanief stepped on the deck, another gorgeous flag rose majestically into place and unfolded its emblazoned notice of his presence. His drowsy black eyes swept over the scene comprehensively, then he gave a brief order to the captain and crossed directly to Allard. And Allard, rising to receive him, suddenly felt his heart quicken with a strange, familiar violence. "We Allards love more than other people," Robert had said. This was what he was giving Stanief, he realized with something like dismay,--that pa.s.sion of fierce un-English intensity which considered nothing and made him its plaything. He had not meant to care like that again--

"Good morning, John," said the cool, faintly imperious voice; the warmly dark eyes met his.

Sighing, Allard yielded up the last resistance and gave his all.

"Your Royal Highness--" he murmured, and hated himself for the unsteadiness of his tone.

Stanief sank into a chair and waved him to the one opposite.

"We are going to sail at once," he announced. "We will watch our progress out of the harbor and then have lunch. You have pa.s.sed an agreeable morning?"

"Yes--no," answered Allard incoherently, taken by surprise. "That is, everything is right now."

Interpreting for himself, Stanief smiled.

"Tell me about it," he suggested.

The ringing of anchor chains ceased, the little launch again swung in its davits. The yacht shuddered, moved. Vasili came up and saluted rigidly.

"I have the honor to report that we sail."

Stanief rested his dark head against the chair-back and met the brilliant gray eyes with the sweet serenity of his own.

CHAPTER VI

"THE KING IS DEAD--LONG LIVE THE KING"