Alison jumped to her feet. “This is Mr Galt, sir, that I told you about,” she informed the young man. Jaikie was presented to him, and made the kind of bow which he thought might be suitable for royalty. He shook hands with the others, and then his eyes strayed involuntarily to Alison. The fire had flushed her cheeks, and he had the dismal feeling that it would be starkly impossible for anything under the age of ninety to avoid falling in love with her.
They sat down to breakfast, Alison on Prince John’s right hand, while Jaikie sat between Casimir and the Professor. Jaikie was very hungry, and his anxieties did not prevent him making an excellent meal, which Casimir thoughtfully did not interrupt with questions. One only he asked: “I understand that Mr Craw is with you? You have just left him?”
Jaikie was a little startled. Alison must have given this fact away. A moment’s reflection assured him that it did not matter. With the Knockraw party the time had come to put all their cards on the table.
“I left him in bed,” he said. “He had a difficult time last night. We fell in with Allins, and he thought he recognised Mr Craw. We took refuge in a Communist meeting, and Allins followed us. I knew the chairman, and there was nothing for it but to get him to ask Mr Craw to speak. And speak he did. You never heard anything like it. He belted the Labour party for not being logical and taking the next step to Communism, and he did it in the accents of a Fife baillie. That was enough to make Allins realise that he was on the wrong scent.”
“How splendid!” Alison cried. “I never thought… “
“No more did he. His nearest friends wouldn’t recognise him now. He scarcely recognises himself.”
Jaikie spoke only once again during the meal.
“Do you know that this place is watched, sir?” he asked Casimir.
“Watched?” three voices exclaimed as one.
“I came on foot across country,” said Jaikie, “for I expected something of the kind. There’s an old Portaway car in the by-road at the southwest corner of the park, and there’s a brand-new car on the wood-road up on the hill. Good stands both, for you’d never notice them, and if you asked questions they’d be ready with a plausible answer. We’re up against some cleverish people. Has Miss Westwater told you anything?”
“Only that Mr Sigismund Allins is a rascal,” said Casimir. “And that is grave news, for he knows too much.”
Jaikie looked at the four men, the kindly fanatical eyes of Prince Odalchini, the Professor’s heavy honesty, Casimir’s alert, clever face, Prince John’s youthful elegance, and decided that these at any rate were honest people. Foolish, perhaps, but high-minded. He was a good judge of the other thing, having in his short life met much of it.
The table was pushed back, the company made a circle round the fire, and Jaikie was given a cigarette out of Prince John’s case. The others preferred cigars.
“We are ready to listen, Mr Galt,” said Casimir.
Jaikie began with a question. “It was Allins who arranged your visit here?”
Casimir nodded. “He has been in touch with us for some time. We regarded him as Mr Craw’s plenipotentiary. He assured us that very little was needed to secure Mr Craw’s active support.”
“You paid him for his help?”
“We did not call it payment. There was a gift—no great amount—simply to cover expenses and atone for a relinquished holiday.”
“Well, the first thing I have to tell you is that somebody else has paid him more—to put a spoke in your wheel.”
“The present Government in Evallonia!”
“I suppose so. I will tell you all I know, and you can draw your own conclusions.”
Jaikie related the facts of which we are already aware, beginning with his first sight of Allins in the car from Gledmouth on the Sunday evening. When he came to the party of foreigners at the Hydropathic he could only describe them according to the account of the head-porter, for he had not yet seen them. But, such as it was, his description roused the liveliest interest in his audience.
“A tall man with a red, pointed beard!” Casimir cried. “That can only be Dedekind.”
“Or Jovian?” Prince Odalchini interjected.
“No. I know for certain that Jovian is sick and has gone to Marienbad. It must be Dedekind. They have used him before for their dirty work… And the other—the squat one—that is beyond doubt the Jew Rosenbaum. I thought he was in America. The round-faced, spectacled man I do not know—he might be any one of a dozen. But the youngish man like a horse-breaker—he is assuredly Ricci. Your Royal Highness will remember him—he married the rich American wife. The fifth I take to be one of Calaman’s sons. I heard that one was well thought of in the secret service.”
“There’s a sixth,” said Jaikie, “whom I have seen myself. I saw him in Allins’s company, and I saw him at a Labour meeting. He’s a short, very powerful fellow with big glasses and an underhung jaw that sticks forward. I know his name, too. He’s called Mastrovin.”
It was a bombshell of the largest size. “Mastrovin!” each of them exclaimed. It was as if a flood of dark memories and fears had been unloosed, and every eye was troubled. “Gracious God!” Casimir murmured. “And Ricci and Dedekind in conjunction! Crime and fanaticism have indeed joined hands.” He leaned over to Prince John. “I fear that we have brought your Royal Highness very near to your most deadly enemies.”
Then he bowed to Jaikie. “You have given us news of extreme importance, and we are most deeply your debtors. If you are to help us—and I think you desire to—it is necessary that you should understand the situation … The present Government in Evallonia is Republican. We believe that it is not loved by the people and but ill suited to the national genius. But it is loved by the Powers of Europe, especially by Britain. They see in it a sober, stable, bourgeois government such as those enjoyed by France and Germany, and in their own interest the present rulers of Evallonia play up to them. They are always ready with the shibboleths of democracy, and at Geneva they speak wonderful things about peace and loving-kindness. But we, Mr Galt, we who are in close touch with the poor people of Evallonia, know better. We know that the Government is a camarilla of selfish adventurers. Already in many secret ways they are oppressing the poor. They think, most of them, not of Evallonia, but of their own power and their own pockets. And some think of darker things. There are among them men who would lead Evallonia into the black ways of Russia. There is above all this Mastrovin. He holds no portfolio—he has refused many—but he is the power in the background. He is the most subtle and dangerous mind in Europe to-day, and he is a fanatic who cannot be intimidated or persuaded or purchased. Why is he here? Why are Dedekind and Ricci and Calaman and Rosenbaum here? They cannot harm us with the Evallonian people—that they know well, for every day among the Evallonian masses disquiet with their régime is growing and enthusiasm for our Prince as their deliverer… They are desperate men, and they must mean desperate things.”
“I daresay they’re all that,” said Jaikie. “But what kind of desperate act would profit them? That’s what puzzles me.”
“They could kidnap his Royal Highness,” Prince Odalchini put in. “Here—on a foreign shore—far from his friends.”
“I don’t think so,” said Jaikie. “Britain is a bad place for that kind of game—our police are too good. Besides, what would they do with him if they got him? Kidnapping would be far easier on the Continent, and if they wanted that they must have had plenty of chances… Suppose they meant to do him bodily harm? Could they choose a worse place than this, where a foreigner is uncommon and conspicuous, and would half-a-dozen of their chief people turn up to do the job? It would be insanity, and they don’t strike me as insane.”
“What then is your explanation?” the Professor asked sombrely.
“They want to discredit his Royal Highness and his party.