Adventure stories; Imaginary places -- Fiction; Kings and rulers -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Love stories
"There is nothing to do," admitted Congosta with a fatalistic shrug.
"Fortunately we have a fair supply of arms and ammunition--for the
rest we must manage as best we can. In a few days there will be many
rifles without owners in Livadia."
"And how about Pedro and Da Freitas?" demanded Tony. "Are they
joining in the fun or are they going to sit tight at Richmond and see
what happens?"
Again Congosta glanced at the clock. "It is because I want the
answer to that question that I must leave you. Two days ago Da
Freitas bought or hired Lord Northfield's steam yacht, the _Vivid_.
She is lying off the Tower Bridge now, and so far as I know she is
ready to sail at any moment. One of my men is watching her, but I
dare not trust wholly anybody but myself. It is necessary that our
people should be informed the very moment that Da Freitas leaves
England."
"Then you think he is going?" said Tony. "You think he has given up
the idea of getting back the Princess?"
Congosta indulged in another shrug of the shoulders. "I cannot tell.
It may be that the revolution has come against his will--that he is
unable to control it longer. Even in that case I do not think he
will easily give up his idea of the marriage. It is one thing to
overthrow a government: it is another to take its place. It's only
as the husband of Don Francisco's daughter that Southern Livadia
could ever be persuaded to acknowledge Pedro." He paused. "You are
quite sure that you were not followed when you took the Princess
away?"
"I am never quite sure of anything," said Tony, "especially with
people who purr and smile like Da Freitas does. All the same I think
we managed to dodge them. I took her a twenty-mile run in the car
first, and she has not been outside the house since she got to
Chester Square."
"You have done well," observed Congosta with a kind of stately
approval. "Should our hopes be fulfilled your name will be honoured
for ever in Livadian history."
"That will be jolly," said Tony; and then, as Congosta gathered up
his hat from the table, he added casually: "You will let me know at
once, I suppose, if there should be any news. I may possibly be out
of town to-night, but I shall be back in good time to-morrow. My
cousin, Guy Oliver, will be here in any case. You can speak to him
as freely as you would to me."
Congosta nodded; and after shaking hands again warmly in the doorway,
entered the taxi, which disappeared rapidly down the drive.
For a moment or two after his visitor had departed Tony remained
wrapped in meditation. Then crossing the hall he pressed the
electric bell for Spalding.
"I am going to Southampton as soon as Jennings is agreeable," he
said. "You might put some pyjamas in a bag for me and shove them in
the car."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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