Long Live the King, Guy Boothby [red queen ebook TXT] 📗

home a fond good-bye, I travelled to Southampton, and by nightfall was on board ship and in mid-Channel. Fortunately, there were no passengers travelling by the boat with whom I was acquainted, or who even knew me by sight. This at least was something to be thankful for. To make assurance doubly sure, however, I had adopted another plan. Feeling certain that, if it became known that Prince Paul of Pannonia were visiting Brazil, telegrams would be dispatched to the newspapers of that country, and thus Max would be given sufficient warning to enable him to get out of my way; I had followed his example, and booked my passage in the name of Mortimer. As plain Mr. Mortimer, therefore, I was known on board.

Of the voyage out nothing need be said. We touched at Lisbon and St. Vincent in due course, and, when that island lay behind us, settled ourselves down to while away the voyage across the Atlantic as pleasantly as we knew how.

At last we reached Rio. It would be impossible for me to describe the varied emotions that filled my breast as we steamed through those wonderful straits into the harbour behind. Save for short excursions to Paris, I had not been out of England since we had taken up our abode in it, and, in consequence, this South American port was like a new world to me. The brightness, the variety of colour, the picturesque placing of the city, and the giant mountain Corcovado, rising behind it, made up a picture that I shall never forget as long as I live. As soon as it was possible for me to do so, I made my way ashore, and, chartering a cab, set off in search of Senor Montezma's office. The cab drivers in Brazil are like their brothers all the world over. They are excellent drivers, but their workmanship is occasionally leavened with a recklessness that is sufficient to bring your heart into your mouth half a dozen times in a hundred yards. It was so in my case. We had not proceeded more than that distance before we as nearly as possible knocked down a pedestrian. Had I only known that that man was Max, what a very different tale I should have to tell! But I did not recognise him, and, in consequence, I drove on to Montezma's office, quite unconscious that I had warned him, and for all the good I could do now I might just as well be back in England. At last I reached the office. In response to my inquiries I was informed that Senor Mortimer was out at the moment, but that doubtless it would not be very long before he would return. While I was making my inquiries Montezma himself emerged from his private office.

"Do I understand that you are inquiring for Senor Mortimer?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he spoke, and bowing like an automaton. "In that case, if you will honour me by stepping into my office, and taking a seat till he returns, you will place me under an obligation. Senor Mortimer's friends are mine."

With that he bowed once more, and spread his hands apart, presenting such a comical appearance that I could scarcely repress a smile. I accepted his invitation in the spirit in which it was offered, and when I had seated myself, lit the cigar he pressed upon me. Senor Montezma, I discovered, was a small, podgy man, with a round bullet head, and a most happy and humorous cast of countenance. He had evidently settled it in his own mind that I was a new arrival in Rio, and I could also see that, for the same reason, his curiosity was excited as to what my relationship with Mr. Mortimer could be.

"I'm afraid I'm inconveniencing you, Senor," I said, observing that he did not proceed with his work. "Perhaps my brother may be absent for some time. In that case it will be better for me to call later on."

"Your brother?" he cried, springing to his feet and running towards me. "Senor, why did you not say before that you were Senor Mortimer's brother? You overwhelm me! I wish you ten thousand welcomes to our city. No, no, you must not move; I could not let you stir. All I have is at your disposal."

He shook me effusively by the hand, while his face beamed all over.

"Your brother will be pleased beyond measure to see you," he went on, still in the same impulsive fashion. "That he knows nothing of your arrival, I pledge you my honour. It will come upon him as a surprise. He will be overcome with delight. He will be the happiest man in Brazil!"

I was not quite so sure of this. Nevertheless, I wished Max would return, in order that we might get the meeting over. However, time slipped by, and he did not put in an appearance. When our patience was well-nigh exhausted, a clerk was despatched to the office at which it was known that he had intended calling. Ten minutes later the lad returned with the information that Max had visited the office and had left it nearly an hour before. Once more we sat down, and possessed our souls in such patience as we could command. Still the time went by and there was no sign of Max.

"It is really very strange," said Montezma at last. "I cannot understand it at all. As a rule he is punctuality itself. It is just possible he might have gone round to see his friend Brockford, with whom he lives. If, Senor, you will honour me by accompanying me, I will conduct you there."

Needless to say I accepted his offer only too willingly, and we accordingly set off together. At any other time I should have enjoyed the bustle and variety of the streets, but this afternoon I was too nervous, too full of anxiety concerning Max, to have much attention to spare for anything else. When we reached Mr. Brockford's office, we went in, to find the gentleman himself at home.

"No," he said, in answer to our inquiries, "I have not seen him since this morning. Unless he has business to transact with me, he seldom calls here until it is time for us to return to Paqueta. I trust nothing serious is the matter?"

As he asked the question he looked at me with searching eyes.

"This gentleman is Senor Mortimer's brother," Montezma observed with great importance. "He has arrived from England this afternoon."

"His brother?" cried Brockford, with what was plainly an expression of alarm upon his face. "You don't mean to say that you are Prince Paul?"

"I _am_ Prince Paul," I answered. "How do you come to be aware that my brother is the Crown Prince?"

"It is sufficient that I _am_ aware of it," he replied gravely, "I have known it for some time."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," cried Montezma in alarm, "what does this mean? What is this I hear about Crown Princes?"

"It means, Senor Montezma," I answered earnestly, "that your clerk is no less a person than the missing Crown Prince of Pannonia, whose absence has caused such unending sorrow to his family. It is to persuade him to return to his friends that I am now in Rio."

The news seemed to stagger the old man. He could not take it in.

"A Crown Prince! a Crown Prince," he repeated, as if he were trying to convince himself of the truth of my announcement.

"If you will forgive me for saying so, I am afraid your brother will not be best pleased to see you," said Brockford, paying no attention to the other's state of bewilderment.

"It was necessary for me to come," I returned. "We have searched for him all the world over, but without success. His absence is breaking my mother's heart."

"Poor Max," said Brockford with a sigh, more to himself than to me.

Realising that it would be of little use our remaining where we were, we returned to Montezma's office, Mr. Brockford accompanying us. We had been absent something like half an hour, and were hoping that we should find Max awaiting us. To our dismay, however, this did not prove to be the case. The clerks had seen nothing of him. Once more we sat down to wait. The suspense, for me at least, was growing unbearable.

"What can have become of him?" I cried at last. "Do you think he has heard of my arrival, and is purposely keeping out of my way?"

Brockford shook his head.

"I should consider it very improbable," he answered. "He certainly had no idea of such a thing this morning, and, as I take it, you did not travel under your own name he would scarcely have penetrated the mystery of your alias."

In the interval, clerks had been sent out in all directions, in the hope that one of them might find him. They invariably returned, however, with the same reply: he was not at the place where they had searched. It was nearly six o'clock before we were confirmed in our belief that there was something more in his absence than met the eye. Our minds, mine especially, were filled with the gloomiest forebodings. At last, just as Brockford was beginning to wonder whether Max could have been taken ill, and have chartered a boat and returned to the Island before his time, a small nigger made his appearance in the outer office. He carried in his hand a letter, which was addressed to Senor de Montezma.

"It is from Senor Mortimer himself!" he cried. "Now we shall know the reason of his strange behaviour."

With that he opened the envelope, and, spreading the letter out upon the table, began to read it. It was not a very long one; but, such as it was, it was sufficient to cause him not only great astonishment, but also a considerable amount of pain. Tears trickled down his cheeks before he had finished, and when he laid it down it was with an audible sob.

"MY GENEROUS FRIEND AND BENEFACTOR (it began),

"How will you feel towards me, when I tell you that it is necessary
I should leave Rio at once, perhaps never to return to it, I dare
not think. A circumstance, so unexpected that I can scarcely
realise it yet, renders it imperative that I should seek a
hiding-place elsewhere and without a moment's delay. I can only ask
you to believe, if you do not know it already, that the secret
which forces me to take this step is not one of which I need be in
any way ashamed. Were it so I should never have been your friend.
That I should have treated you like this, after all you have done
for me, cuts me to the heart. Forgive me, if you can, and believe
that while I live, I shall remain,

"Yours in all gratitude and respect,

"MAXIMILIAN MORTIMER."

When he had finished reading a long silence fell upon us all.


CHAPTER XIII.


There was only one construction that could conscientiously be placed upon Max's behaviour. This was, that he had got wind of my arrival in Brazil. But how he had managed to do so--for, of course, I did not know then that he had recognised me as the occupant of the cab that had so nearly knocked him down--I could not