The Lady in the Car Part 5

Nellie he found looking particularly dainty, with the usual big black velvet bow in her hair, and wearing a neat blouse of cream washing-silk and a short black skirt. She was essentially the type of healthy hockey-playing English girl.

As he grasped her hand and greeted her with formality, he felt it tremble within his grasp. She had kept his secret; of that there was no doubt.

The home life of the Northovers he found quite pleasant. It was so unlike anything he had even been used to. He remained to tea, and he returned there to dine and spend a pleasant evening listening to Nellie's performances on the piano.

Afterwards, when the ladies had retired as they did discreetly at half-past ten, he sat smoking his "Petroffs" and chatting with Mr Northover.

"I hope you found your friend, the clergyman, better, Prince. Where is he living?"

"Oh, yes; he's much better, thanks. But he has rather wretched quarters, in a house in Rock Terrace. I've urged him to move into an hotel. He says, however, that he hates hotels. He's such a good fellow--gives nearly all he has to the poor."

"I suppose he's down here for fresh air?"

"Yes. He's very fond of this neighbourhood. Often came here when a boy, I believe."

"When you go again I'd like to call upon him. We must not allow him to be lonely."

"I shall call to-morrow. Perhaps you could go with me, after the bank has closed?"

"Yes. At four-thirty. Will you call at the bank for me?"

And so it was arranged.

Punctually at the hour named the Prince stepped from his car before the bank--which was situated in a side street between two shops--and was at once admitted and ushered through to the manager's room.

Then the pair went on to Rock Terrace to pay the visit. The invalid was much better, and Northover found him a man entirely after his own heart.

He was a man of the world, as well as a clergyman.

In the week that followed, Nellie's father made several visits, and once, on a particularly bright day, the Prince brought the Rev Thomas round in the car to return the visit at Tinwell Road.

Within ten days the vicar of St Ethelburga's, Bayswater, had become quite an intimate friend of the Northovers; so much so, indeed, that they compelled him to give up his rooms in Rock Terrace, and come and stay as their guest. Perhaps it was more for the Prince's sake they did this--perhaps because they admired Clayton as "a splendid fellow for a parson."

Anyhow, all this gave the Prince plenty of opportunities for meeting Nellie clandestinely. Instead of going to her music-lesson, or to her hockey-club, or visiting an old schoolfellow, she went daily to a certain secluded spot on the Worthope Road, where she was joined by the man she loved.

Her romance was complete. She adored Albert, utterly and devotedly; while he, on his part, was her slave. On the third day after his arrival in Stamford she had promised to become Princess of Hesse-Holstein, and now they were closely preserving their secret.

The advent of his Highness had raised Mrs Northover to the very pinnacle of the social scale in Stamford. Times without number she tried to obtain from Nellie the true state of affairs, but the girl was sly enough to preserve her lover's secret.

If the truth were yet known to the family of Hesse-Holstein, all sorts of complications would a.s.suredly ensue. Besides, it would, he felt certain, bring upon him the displeasure of the Emperor. He must go to Potsdam, and announce to the Kaiser his engagement with his own lips.

And so little Nellie Northover, the chosen Princess of Hesse-Holstein, the girl destined to become husband of the ruler of a princ.i.p.ality half the size of England, and the wealthiest of the German princes, often wandered the country roads alone, and tried to peer into her brilliant future. What would the girls of Stamford say when they found that Nellie Northover was actually a princess! Why, even the Marchioness who lived at the great ancestral mansion, mentioned in Tennyson's well-known poem, would then receive her!

And all through the mere failing of a motor-car clutch at that tiny obscure Belgian village.

The Reverend Thomas gradually grew stronger while guest of Mr Northover, and both he and the Prince, together with the Northovers, Mr Henry Ashdown, the a.s.sistant manager of the bank who lived on the premises, and others of the Northovers' friends went for frequent runs in the n.o.bleman's car.

The Prince never hedged himself in by etiquette. Every friend of Northover at once became his friend; hence, within a fortnight, his Highness was the most popular figure in that quaint old market town.

One afternoon while the Prince and the clergyman were walking together up the High Street, they pa.s.sed a thin, pale-faced man in dark grey flannels.

Glances of recognition were exchanged, but no word was uttered.

"Max is at the `George,' isn't he?" asked the Prince.

"Yes," replied his companion. "Arrived the night before last, and having a particularly dull time, I should think."

"So should I," laughed the Prince.

That evening, the two ladies being away at the Milton Hound Show, they took Northover and his a.s.sistant, Ashdown, after their business, over to Peterborough to bring them back. Ashdown was some ten years younger than his chief, and rather fond of his whisky and soda. At the Great Northern Hotel in Peterborough they found the ladies; and on their return to Stamford the whole party dined together at the Prince's hotel, an old-fashioned hostelry with old-fashioned English fare.

And so another fortnight went past. The autumn winds grew more chilly, and the leaves fell with the advance of October.

Nellie constantly met the Prince, in secret, the only person knowing the truth besides themselves being the Parson, who had now become one of the girl's particular friends.

While the Prince was dressing for dinner one evening, Charles being engaged in putting the links in his shirt-cuffs, he suddenly asked:

"Max is still in Stamford, I suppose?"

"I believe so, your Highness."

"Well, I want you to take this up to London to-night, Charles." And he drew from a locked drawer a small sealed packet about four inches square, looking like jewellery. "You'll see the address on it. Take it there, then go to the Suffolk Hotel, in Suffolk Street, Strand, and wait till I send you instructions to return."

"Very well, your Highness," answered the man who always carried out his master's instructions with blind obedience.

Next day, in conversation with Mr Northover, the Prince expressed regret that he had been compelled to discharge his man Charles at a moment's notice.

"The man is a thief," he said briefly. "I lost a valuable scarf-pin the other day--one given me by the Emperor. But I never suspected him until a few days ago when I received an anonymous letter telling me that my trusted man, Charles, had, before I took him into my service, been convicted of theft, and was, indeed, one of a gang of clever swindlers!

I made inquiries, and discovered this to be the actual truth."

"By Jove!" remarked the Reverend Thomas. "Think what an escape the Prince has had! All his jewellery might have suddenly disappeared!"

"How very fortunate you were warned!" declared Mr Northover. "Your correspondent was anonymous, you say?"

"Yes. Some one must have recognised him in London, I think, and, therefore, given me warning. A most disagreeable affair--I a.s.sure you."

"Then you've lost the Emperor's present?" asked Nellie.

"Yes," sighed the Prince; "It's gone for ever. I've given notice to the police. They're sending a detective from London to see me, I believe, but I feel certain I shall never see it again."

This conversation was repeated by Mrs Northover to her husband, when he returned from business that evening.

About the same hour, however, while the Prince was smoking with his clerical friend in his private room at the hotel, the waiter entered, saying that a Mr Mason had called upon his Highness.

"That's the man from Scotland Yard!" exclaimed the Prince aloud. "Show him up."

A few moments later a rather pale-faced, fair-haired man in shabby brown tweeds was ushered in, and the waiter, who knew the story of Charles's sudden discharge, retired.

"Good evening, Prince," exclaimed the new-comer. "I got your wire and came at once." At the same time he produced from his pocket a small cartridge envelope containing something slightly bulky, but carefully sealed.