The Illustrious PrinceOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
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The Illustrious Prince
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; Princes -- Fiction
“There are many of your race who do live here,” she reminded him.
He smiled with the air of one who is forced to humor a person of limited
vision.
“With them it is, alas! a matter of necessity,” he said. “It is very
hard indeed to make you understand over here how we feel about such
things,--there seems to be a different spirit amongst you Western races,
a different spirit or a lack of spirit--I do not know which I should
say. But in Japan the love of our country is a passion which seems to
throb with every beat of our hearts. If we leave her, it is for her
good. When we go back, it is our reward.”
“Then you are here now for her good?” she asked.
“Assuredly,” he answered.
“Tell me in what way?” she begged. “You have been studying English
customs, their methods of education, their political life, perhaps?”
He turned his head slowly and looked into her eyes. She bore the ordeal
well, but she never forgot it. It seemed to her afterwards that he must
have read every thought which had flashed through her brain. She felt
like a little child in the presence of some mysterious being, thoughts
of whom had haunted her dreams, now visible in bodily shape for the
first time.
“My dear young lady,” he said, “please do not ask me too much, for I
love to speak the truth, and there are many things which I may not tell.
Only you must understand that the country I love--my own country--must
enter soon upon a new phase of her history. We who look into the future
can see the great clouds gathering. Some of us must needs be pioneers,
must go forward a little to learn our safest, and best course. May I
tell you that much?”
“Of course,” she answered softly.
“And now,” he added, leaving his seat as though with reluctance, “the
Duchess reminded me, above all things, that directly I found you I was
to take you to supper. One of your royal princes has been good enough to
signify his desire that we should sit at the same table.”
She rose at once.
“Does the Duchess know that you are taking me?” she asked.
“I arranged it with her,” he answered. “My time draws soon to an end and
I am to be spoilt a little.”
They crossed the ballroom together and mounted the great stairs.
Something--she never knew quite what it was--prompted her to detain him
as they paused on the threshold of the supper room.
“You do not often read the papers, Prince,” she said. “Perhaps you
have not seen that, after all, the police have discovered a clue to the
Hamilton Fynes murder.”
The Prince looked down upon her for a moment without reply.
“Yes?” he murmured softly.
She understood that she was to go on--that he was anxious for her to go
on.
“Some little doctor in a village near Willington, where the line passes,
has come forward with a story about attending to a wounded man on the
night of the murder,” she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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