THE HEIR TO THE THRONE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15549, 5 March 1914, Page 4

THE HEIR TO THE THRONE.

BY ARTHDE W. MARCHMONT, V u 'if of "By Eight of Sword." "A I >■■< ii. for a Throne," " For Love or Crown." " When I was Czar." "In the Name of the People," " The Man Wbo Was Dead." "The Queen's Advocate," "In the Name of a\ 'Woman," ' " A Courier of Fortune," etc. COPYRIGHT. • CHAPTER X. SEBASTIAN DRAW). "It was splendid of you, but, oh, so foolish, Sir lan. I cannot think how it is that you men make such blunders. Why couldn't you see that the only way to get a footing at the Chase is through that horrid old man? You have made an, enemy of him for life." This was Muriel Maltravers' verdict upon the scene with von Bergstein. She had kept me waiting, not one hour, but nearly three, until I had almost given up the hope of seeing her"l care nothing whether he is a friend or enemy. Nothing matters now." "But surely vou don'b expect any other /esult with Evala? Don't interrupt me," she exclaimed as I was going to answer her question. " I haven't much time, and as it is,' it's quite likely that one of that old spider's creatures will sgy out that I've met you. I had to rush out anyhow and expect I look an awful fright." " Very far indeed from that. I assure— "I didn't come out to talk about myself," she interrupted. " I suppose you know that Evala and I were at school together?" " No, I-" , " Well, never mind. We were; ' and I know more about her than anybody else. I wanted her to take me with her to Southampton, you know, and then all this would never have happened. But the old tyrant stopped it." "All what'/ " I , asked, as she paused for breath. "As if you didn't know that I mean about you. Don't be so innocent. Do you mean to pretend you don't know that Evala cares for you; though I think you do care for her. juut the worst of it is that you'll get over it and she won't. Men always do." " You are very wise in your knowledge of men." "I have a bunch of sisters, and one soon learns things. But I want you to be really serious. That's why I determined to speak to you. The kindest thing you can do is to give up thinking of Evala, Sir lan. I mean that honestly. Of course I got out of her all about that Southampton business' John, the chauffeur' and 'Mademoiselle' and all the rest of it. The poor girl was dying to talk to somebody about it. And her heart was nearly broken, I believe, when she found out who you really were. She is tho truest and bravest and dearest girl the world ever knew, and although she is wrapped up heart and soul in this precious conspiracy business— opera, I call it— believe she would have let her heart decide this if you had been any other man than Sir lan Calmadale. But I tell you candidly the fac that you killed her brother makes everything impossible." " She made that quite claar to-day," I said gloomily. "If there were.one single little teenyweeny ray .of hope for you I'd tell you so; because I believe that, "she thinks pretty much as I do about the man she's going to marry— sleek little mountebank. Count Lugo. But she'll go through with it to the bitter end, now. Poor Evala!"

" You speak of this conspiracy ■as a burlesque ?" "What else is it ? Who believes in it; except Evala T I don't mean 'quite that. There are a lot of people who come and go. at the Chase who are in earnest, I believe, for they are always jangling and wrangling and intriguing amongst themselves and fighting for precedence and the rest of it ; and some of them, judging by what I have' heard now and then, would just love to stick a knife or something into you, Sir lan. I suppose you know the positively awful things that have been said about you. As if an Englishman would turn spy and commit a murder for such a purpose. But some of them believe it and have said things which made my blood boil." "You may care to know the truth," I said, and told it her very briefly. "Of course I never knew Olaf; but from all accounts I should think he did everyone a service by getting killed. But naturally Evala can see it in that way and sho is just the girl to take the view of it she does ; and just the girl, too, to let nothing ever change her." " I'm afraid I agree with you," I said. " I longed to tell you, and when I heard from Evala where you 'ived I made up my mind to see you somehow." " You have mentioned Southampton. Do you knojw anything of the reason for' the attack upon her?"' " No, indeed ; nor anyone else—unless that old tyrant of a baron. They went down to meet somebody who was coming from Buda—at least, so he declared ; but you never know when he speaks the truth. I don't, anyhow. He's the master at the Chase ; and has everyone under his thumb—even Prince Osca himself. I suppose he knows things about him and frightens him. The place is nothing but a scrt of gilded prison. We can't move a finger without his permission. Everyone is afraid of —except Evala, .perhaps ; but he' manages to wheedle and bamboozle her till she believes in him. But he'll have to mind his p's and q\s about that letter of yours he took. Of course it was his doing. No one else would have dared ; but I suppose he'll find a scapegoat and wriggle out somehow. It's my belief that he's as false as he can be and that he has some deep secret plot for his own advantage. To gain his own ends he'd sacrifice everyone and anything." " Even the Countess Evala?" " If he had the opportunity, of course. Every creature about him is merely a pawn to be played as he decides." " You think she is in some danger, then?"

. " Su'ely you don't suppose that Southampton business was a summer excursion! I don't believe anything is too bad for him to do and how it will all end, goodness only knows. But it won't be a throne for Evala unless the baron wishes it. I must go now, though. I may write jto you if Evala is in any trouble. But there, I've asked you not to think any [ more about her and you'll say I'm like the rest of women in being inconsistent." I "By all means write," I urged. 'And let me k'now if there is anything at any time that I can do."

And with that this impulsive, volatile, voluble, but yet shrewd, observant and true-hearted girl tripped away, as lightly as if there were no such thing as trouble in the world, to return to what she had called the gilded prison. But I was deeply and distressfully impressed by the interview. The position of matters as she had described it was at once ludicrous, pathetic, and disconcerting ; ludicrous, in the suggestion of a crowd of needy . adventurers pretending to gamble for a throne while seeking nothing but' their own petty ends; pathetic because Evala appeared to be almost alone in her sincerity and- honest patriotism; and disconcerting,.since there was none to stand between her and the wily unscrupulous old scoundrel who domineered over all about him and was ready to sacrifice her on the altar of his own. selfish gain. I was powerless to move a finger in her cause, however. She had sent me empty away; would! not allow me to see her again; and had gone so far as to refuse to let me help even if she found herself in danger. The very gentleness with which she had dismissed me added to my feeling of impotent despair, since it had left me no option but to accept her decision and not one faint spark of hope that she would ever relent. i I was not coxcomb enough to believe what Muriel Maltravers had said about her caring for me. There had been no reason for any such feelings to have- been awakened ; and I had gone to her prepared to accept in all loyalty the fact of her betrothal to her cousin.

But this did not prevent my asking myself in the empty days that followed whether she did care, and passing hour after hour in fruitless review of every word she had spoken, every look she had given and every gesture during the interview. „ During that time I was profoundly wretched. Valtoun pressed me to go on the Continent with him and twice in as many days I consented and each time recalled my consent, pleading some pretext which was not the truth- The truth I buried deep down in my mind, scarcely acknowledging it even to myself. It was the lingering hope that Evala would relent and send for me. But at the end of a week a letter came from her friend which emphasised what she had already said— that there was absolutely no hope that Evala would change her mind. "If there were a chance of it I should know it now," she wrote; "for there nas been a gigantic rumpus over that business of the letters. You have done what no one else could have done, 1 am sure shaken .her faith in that horrid old wretch our gaoler. What passed 1 don't know; and for once she won't tell me; but I know she has begun to distrust him and is more in need of a friend than ever. She would give her eyes to have your help, but would cut her right hand off rather than let it pen the words to ask for it. Poor Evalawith only the grinning empty-headed mountebank "of a cousin to rely upon. She has never mentioned your name since you were here and I believe she is forcing herself never even to think of you. So again I say —give it up. Sir lan." As if such a letter was not certain to make me think of her more constantly than ever, to multiply my fears on her account a hundredfold and set me girding more bitterly than before at the barrier which kept us apart. And then, like a flash of brilliant sunshine from a gloomy sky, came a glorious gleam of hope to dissipate my brooding melancholy. I had decided to take advice and leave England for a time, and was on my way to the steamship offices to make some arrangements, when I > =fcajsSSte;just ahead of me the man with the i, red face. I hurried and overtook him.^f rf " You have not kept your word, niy friend," I said. " Ah, Sir lan Calmadale I Do Cutaways lie together?" " Mine lies with yours," 1 replied. "Police again?" he asked with a, dry smile. " I thought we had settled that." " You promised to communicate with me." " I have been out of England, Sir lan; but I have not forgotten our interesting chat, and since my return, indeed, have been very much tempted to see you. Matters have moved considerably." "You have not given me your name." "A name is. of very little account; but mine is Sebastian Drago. I am, as I told you, a Hungarian, and when I saw you I was much interested in your friends at the Chase." "My friends ?" "It is my business to know things, Sir lan," he said with a flourish of the hands. " And one thing I know is that you and I have one feeling in common— our love for Baron von Bergstein." His eyes positively glittered with hate as he mentioned the name. Then with a swift change he added: "But these are matters,we cannot discuss in the street, sir." '' My flat is close here, will you come there He assented readily, and when we reached it he glanced round with an appreciative remark about one or two of the pictures—a Corst and a Meissonier in particularand as he lit a cigar his keen, shrewd, observant eyes were fixed intently upon me. (To be continued daily.)