# Munsey's/Royal Amethyst/Chapter 10

pp. 211–213

### X

The next few days passed away quietly and uneventfully. On the next morning after our arrival at the castle the princess received a cablegram from Sir Desmond Adare informing her that he was sailing from Cape Town and hoped to join her in about three weeks. She and Nancy were overjoyed at this news. It appeared to me, however, that a good deal might happen before Sir Desmond arrived. Now that we were settled at Annalleen, my anxiety returned in full force. I began to grow moody and taciturn, and Nancy quickly noticed it.
“What is the matter, Cosmo?” she asked one morning. “You seem troubled about something.”
“I confess that I'm bothered, Nancy,” I replied. “I'm anxious about everything.”
“But nothing has happened,” she urged. “We have been here three days now, and have had no sign of trouble.”
“You can't argue much from that,” I said. “Our enemies may be perfecting some scheme. You see, Nancy, news of the princess's whereabouts was wired from Dublin to London, and whoever tracked us to Dublin has undoubtedly followed us to this place. The people who have tracked us have done so with some purpose.”
“Oh!” she cried. “I don't think there's much doubt about who has tracked us, or about his purpose. It is Count Hofberg, of course, and we all know his purpose.”
“I wish he would appear, then,” I said. “I like to see the people I am fighting.”
“You will—don't worry. Cosmo,” she told me, laughing, “I know Fritz von Hofberg. He is a desperado—just the sort of man who ought to have lived in the Middle Ages and carried a two-handed sword.”
“I feel in the humor for him,” said I. “I shall doubtless form a great respect for him when he appears on the scene. It is this waiting that I don't like, Nancy. Every time we go out I wonder if somebody is watching us. I awake in the night wondering if the princess is safe, or if some one has entered the castle, poisoned Peter, strangled Deasy, and taken the jewels.”
“Nerves, my dear Cosmo, nerves!” said Nancy. “I never have any fears of that sort. No one could get into the castle to carry Amirel away. Besides, she sleeps with a revolver under her pillow.”
“I wish she wouldn't,” I said with some fervor. “It's dangerous!”
“Oh, she has done that for years. However, your anxieties won't last long. Sir Desmond Adare will be here in less than three weeks.”
“Aye!” said I. “There's another matter, Nancy. You and I are old friends.”
She looked up quickly from the fancy work that lay on her knee.
“Very old friends,” she repeated.
“Then we can tell the truth to each other,” I continued.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, how will Sir Desmond Adare take my presence here as watchdog to his future wife, eh, Nancy? What will he think about it?”
“I should think he will feel very grateful to you,” she answered readily enough.
“I don't know whether he will or not,” I said. “Supposing I were in Sir Desmond's place, would I like to find my future wife guarded by a man who at one time built up a pretty reputation as a gambler and a drunkard—”
“Oh!” she interrupted. “Is there any need to—”
“Lots of need, Nancy,” I replied. “Frankly, I don't think Sir Desmond will like to find me here. I know I shouldn't if I were in his place. He'll probably be very polite, feel intensely vexed, and dismiss me with great courtesy. Nancy, you and I are a couple of fools. You were foolish in asking me to undertake this work, and I was foolish in accepting. We're in embarrassing positions.”
“If you wish to quit, you may do so,” she said very seriously.
“I don't. For some reasons I wish I did; but I don't, Nancy, and I won't. I intend to guard Princess Amirel until Sir Desmond Adare arrives, and I'll answer to him for everything. I'm honest in this adventure, at any rate.”
“Then why do you say such things?” she demanded. “You forget that I arranged all this. I was nearly at my wit's end when I met you, and I wish you knew how glad I was to see you. You see, I remembered how full of resource you used to be in the old days—”
“All right, Nancy!” I said, interrupting her. “Let's not argue it. The devil of the whole thing is that I have a past, and it keeps lifting its ugly head. If one could only blot it out of existence, forget all about it—”
“You make such wonderful efforts to do that, don't you, Cosmo?” she said, gathering her work together and making for the door. “You do try, don't you, poor dear, to put it all away from you, to stamp it out, to make it as if it had never been? You never talk or think about it, do you? You never waste a moment in telling yourself how sorry you are that you have a past? Oh, you—you goose!” she cried, with her hand on the door. “Why don't you give up vaporing about the past and think a little of the—shall we say the future, Cosmo?”
Then the door slammed upon her merry laughter and her handsome, mocking face. I put my hands deep into my pockets, and felt as if I had been whipped.
I got my hat and stick and set out for a long walk, which eventually ended in Ennis. It was five o'clock when I arrived there, and I decided to have a cup of tea before returning to the castle. Turning into a quiet-looking, old-fashioned hotel that stood in a large garden under the shadow of the cathedral, I found my way to the coffeeroom and ordered what I wanted.
A man sat in the room, eating, and giving all his attention to it. As I turned from the maid and advanced toward an easy chair near the hearth, the man lifted his head, and I recognized him as an old orderly of mine.
The recognition was mutual enough. He half rose from his chair and bowed.
“Oh, is that you, Jefferson?” I said. “I last saw you at Ahmednagar, I think.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “It was at Ahmednagar, six years ago.”
His tone was polite, but there was a sinister look on his face. He was a big, fat, smooth-faced man, with very small, sly eyes, and he had put on a lot of flesh since I had known him in India. The very loud suit of checked tweed that he wore did not improve his looks. A heavy cable chain was festooned across his stomach, and diamond rings sparkled on his fat fingers. His whole appearance was that of a bookmaker or a gambler.
“Left the service, Jefferson?” I asked, as I sat down and reached out for a newspaper.
“Yes, sir, I left it some little time ago—about the same time as you did, sir, I should think,” he answered. “Bought my discharge, sir.”
“Oh, indeed!” I said. “I hope you are doing well in civil life?”
“I have nothing to complain of, sir,” he replied.
I stared at him as he went on eating. I could not quite reconcile his outward appearance with his voice and his manner. His manner was entirely correct, his tones were those of a dove, but there was a sneaking, shifty trick of speech and look about him.
“That's good,” I said. “I'm afraid you couldn't get into the old uniform now.”
“It's a family tendency, sir,” he replied. “I'm a moderate man in every way, but it comes on me. You're looking much better yourself, sir, than when you was at Ahmednagar.”
There was no mistaking the sneer that time.
'Oh, I am very well indeed, thank you, Jefferson,” I replied.
The maid brought my tea just then, and I gave my attention to it and the newspaper, displaying no further outward notice of the man's presence; but the unctuous voice broke in on my thoughts.
“It's better than you can get across the water, sir.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” I said.
“Yes, sir. I use tea a good deal. I've been an abstainer, sir, for some years now. I find I'm a good deal better off without liquor, sir.”
“Oh, indeed!” I said.
“Yes, sir. I firmly agree with Lord Roberts, sir, about the deleterious effects of intoxicating liquor.”
“I'm afraid you're turning temperance lecturer, Jefferson,” I said. “I hear it's a good trade.”
“Thank you, sir, but I don't hold with spouting on platforms. Moral suasion is my remedy for all them things.”
“Moral suasion is a capital remedy,” I said, drinking my tea. “Well, good day to you, Jefferson!”
“Good day to you, sir, and my best respects,” he replied, again half rising.
I gave him a careless nod and walked out of the hotel. The sight of him put me in bad temper. What was he doing there? He had always been a sneaking sort of chap. The other men used to call him Greaser. The encounter with him had left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.
My way home led me to the railway station, and I went in to buy a newspaper or two. The afternoon train from Limerick had just arrived, and there was a good deal of bustle and commotion on the platform. As I made my way through the throng, I suddenly came face to face with two men who had just left the train and were talking with a porter. One glance convinced me that I was looking at the Prince of Amavia and Count Hofberg.
One was a tall, slender, very graceful young man of thirty years, handsome in a rather effeminate way. His features were regular, his complexion a pale olive, his expression good-natured. His slender figure was set off to advantage by a well cut suit of dark gray. The other man was of medium height, florid in complexion, with fierce blue eyes and a mustache of pale yellow, bristling upward from his lips. He was stout, and he wore a Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers.
I watched these two men get into a car outside the station and drive into the town. I took a car myself and drove straight to Annalleen. By good luck I found Nancy in the stone hall, and told her of the latter part of the afternoon's adventures.
“Yes,” she said. “You are quite right, Cosmo—these men are the men you took them for; but the tall, slender young man is not Prince Adalbert, but the wicked count, and the fat one is the prince.”