Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective StoriesHanshew, Thomas W.
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Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories
Hanshew, Thomas W.
Cleek, Hamilton (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories
It was. He had forgotten that; and it came upon him now with a shock
of bitter recollection. For a moment he stood silent, the colour
draining out of his face, the light fading slowly from his eyes;
then, of a sudden, he looked over the glittering room and across
its breadth at Irma.
"It would not be possible then?" he asked.
"Not as a royal consort, sir. The people's choice in that respect
would lie with the hereditary princess of Danubia. I have already
explained that to Mademoiselle. But if it should be your Majesty's
pleasure to take a morganatic wife----"
"Cut that!" rapped in Cleek's voice like the snap of a whiplash. "So,
then, one is to sell one's honour for a crown; break a woman's life
for a kingdom, and become a royal adulterer for the sake of a throne
and sceptre!"
"But, Majesty, one's duty to one's country is a sacred thing."
"Not so sacred as one's redeemer, Count, and, under God, here is
mine!" he threw back, heatedly. "Mauravania forgot once; she will
forget again. She _must_ forget! My lords and gentlemen, I decline
her flattering offer. My only kingdom is here--in this dear woman's
arms. Walk with me, Ailsa--walk with me always. You said you would.
Walk with me, dear, as my queen _and_ my wife."
And putting his arm about her and holding her close, and setting
his back to the lights and the flags and the glittering Guard, he
passed, with head erect, through the murmuring gathering and went
down and out with her--to the blue limousine--to the Yard's service
again--and to those better things which are the true crown of a man's
life.
At the foot of the steps Narkom and Dollops caught up with him, and
the boy's eager hand plucked at his sleeve.
"Guv'ner, Gawd love yer--Gawd love yer, sir; you're a man, you are!"
he said with a sort of sob in his voice. "I'm glad you chucked it.
It was breakin' my heart to think that I'd have to call you 'Sire'
all the rest of my days, sir--like as if you was a bloomin' horse!"
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected.
Archaic and variable spelling is preserved.
The author's punctuation style is preserved.
Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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