The Illustrious PrinceOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Illustrious Prince
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; Princes -- Fiction
“My friend,” the Prince answered, “it were better for you not to ask
that question.”
“Here under this roof,” the Baron continued, “is sanctuary, but in the
streets and squares beyond, it seems to me--and I have thought this over
many times,--it seems to me that even the person of the great Prince,
cousin of the Emperor, holy son of Japan, would not be safe.”
Prince Maiyo shrugged his shoulders. There was gravity in his face, but
it was the gravity of a man who has learnt to look upon serious things
with a light heart.
“I, also,” he said, “have weighed this matter very carefully in my mind.
What I did was well done, and if the bill is thrust into my face, I must
pay. First of all, Baron, I promise you that I shall finish my work.
After that, what does it matter? You and I know better than this nation
of life-loving shopkeepers. A week, a year, a span of years,--of what
account are they to us who have sipped ever so lightly at the great cup?
If we died tomorrow for the glory of our country, should we not say to
one another, you and I, that it was well?”
The Baron rose to his feet and bowed. Into his voice there had crept a
note almost of reverence.
“Prince,” he said, “almost you take me back to the one mother country.
Almost your words persuade me that the strangeness of these Western
lands is a passing thing. We wonder, and as we wonder they shall crumble
away. The sun rises in the East.”
The Prince also rose. Servants came silently forward, bearing his hat
and gloves.
“Perhaps,” the Prince smiled, as he made his adieux--
“Perhaps,” the Ambassador echoed. “Who can tell?”
The Prince sent away his carriage and walked homeward, greeting every
now and then an acquaintance. He walked cheerfully and with a smile upon
his face. There was nothing in his appearance which could possibly have
indicated to the closest observer that this was a man who had taken
death by the hand. At the corner of Regent Street and Pall Mall he
overtook Inspector Jacks. He leaned forward at once and touched the
detective on the shoulder.
“Mr. Jacks,” he said, “it is pleasant to see you once more. I was afraid
that I should have to leave without bidding you farewell.”
The Inspector started. The Prince laughed to himself as he watched that
gesture. Indeed, a man who showed his feelings so easily would be very
much at a loss in Tokio!
“You are going away, Prince?” the Inspector asked quickly. “When?”
“The exact day is not fixed,” the Prince replied, “but it is true that
I am going home. I have finished my work, and, you see, there is nothing
to keep me over here any longer. Tell me, have you had any fortune yet?
I read the papers every day, hoping to see that you have cleared up
those two terrible affairs.”
Inspector Jacks shook his head.
“Not yet, Prince,” he said.
“Not yet,” the Prince echoed. “Dear me, that is very unfortunate!”
Inspector Jacks watched the people who were passing, for a moment, with
a fixed, unseeing gaze.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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