THE ROYAL TRAIN

Published under syndication in The World's News, Sydney, Australia, December 19, 1914

"THE matter is quite simple," the head of the department said, "that is, of course, so far as the facts are concerned. Princess Stephanie of Austiria has quite lately celebrated her twenty-first birthday. There have been great rejoicings in Marena, the capital of Austiria, and the King has been doing the thing, what shall I call it——"

"Top hole," the Baroness Cora Levinski laughed. "You may not care for the phrase in high diplomacy, but it is on the tip of your tongue."

Sir Anthony Barrington smiled. He was very young for the position, and there were those who hinted at boudoir politics and the ridiculous assumption that because a man has figured in a test match he might, therefore, make an ideal Head of the Secret Service Department.

As a matter of fact, no harassed and badgered Prime Minister ever made a better appointment. There was not a single political spy in Europe who was not aware of it.

"Princess Stephanie is our especial care just now," Barrington went on. "She is of far greater importance than she imagines. Of course I can't say whether she is ambitious or not, or whether she is merely a girl who——"

"She is divine," the baroness exclaimed. "The most beautiful and accomplished princess in Europe to-day. She has character and individuality. If she makes up her mind to a thing, that thing is going to be done. My dear Anthony, I have known her ever since she was a child. I know the Court at Marena inside out. Stephanie is no royal puppet, she will not marry the first prince that your people push across the chessboard towards her."

"Precisely," Barrington smiled. "Because of these facts we are desirous of availing ourselves of your valuable services. Because we have every reason to believe that the princess is married already."

"I am not easily startled, Sir Anthony. But is this really so?"

"Well, that is our impression. And we had it from a source which has hitherto been absolutely reliable. The marriage took place near Paris eight months ago. At that time the princess was staying incognito in charge of an old governess. The bridegroom is Prince Arturo of Braxony. Now, mind you, I am all the more inclined to believe this because we cannot find the faintest piece of evidence of it."

"Sounds rather subtle," the baroness murmured.

"Not at all. Our man's proofs were curt and to the point. We made no very careful enquiries at the time because the marriage was exactly what we wanted. In a few weeks, the cowardly, dissipated King of Braxony will be pushed off the throne, and it is arranged that Prince Arturo will take his place. A marriage between the prince and Princess Stephanie—some time to be queen of Austiria—would consolidate two powerful States and give us the buffer we need so as to protect our interests in Persia. Now that is not the game of the King of Austiria at all. He has made up his mind that Princess Stephanie shall wed her cousin, Prince Karl, and Russia has given him her blessing."

"But if the princess is already married to your man——"

"Did I not say that no proofs exist? The cure who was supposed to have performed the ceremony was transferred to Austiria. A promotion, of course. But he has been promoted so high that he has disappeared in the clouds. Two peasants who witnessed the marriage have migrated, goodness knows where. Then there was a fire in the chapel and all records burnt. Now all that is very suspicious. It is quite evident that old Carlos of Austiria has done his work thoroughly. All proofs have vanished, there has been no fuss and bother, and the princess is safely back home again."

"My dear Sir Anthony, you speak as if she were a prisoner."

"And so she is," said Harrington drily. "She appears in public, she goes to all kinds of functions, she is cheered as she rides in public, there is a smile upon her lips. But she is a prisoner all the same. And so is Prince Arturo. He is supposed to be in Marena for the rejoicings. But he is not allowed to move a yard without being followed. His correspondence is tampered with, his frank letters to his friends are fakes and forgeries. I know the situation sounds impossible, but there it is. Unless something is done, it may go on indefinitely. One or other of these young people—or both preferably—must escape."

"And you are looking to me to bring it about, Sir Anthony."

"My dear baroness, you are absolutely essential. There is nobody I know whose services I would prefer. You have brought off some brilliant coups for us, and we have not been ungrateful—or mean. You know the Court of Marena, you will be received there with open arms. Nobody will suspect you, least of all the king, who flatters himself that we are in the deepest ignorance with regard to the romance. Who would suspect that you are in the pay of our Government? And you can name your own price. Whatever you need is yours."

The dark eyes of the baroness sparkled.

"I should just love it," she whispered. "Besides, I am fond of the princess. But it is going to be an expensive play to stage. I may need a regiment of soldiers."

"Oh, have an army corps if necessary," Barrington said eagerly. "We will open an account in your name through some big foreign house, and the Nationale Bank at Barena will be advised to honor your draft to any extent. Now, when can you go?"

"I can and will start to-morrow," Baroness Levinski said promptly, "I shall have to spend a day or two in Paris en route. But it is going to take time. I must not be hurried in the matter."

Barrington was prepared to give every assurance. The baroness would not be interfered with, the service would give her an entirely free hand. Whereupon Cora Levinski departed smilingly, and Barrington strolled down to Lord's to see how Middlesex were getting on against Kent.

By the end of the week the baroness found herself comfortably settled in Marena. She wrote a good many letters and despatched a good many parcels, but none of these went by post. The baroness had been too long engaged in the secret service for that. She had her subordinates everywhere, she kept very much to herself, and it was only a question of time before an invitation to the palace came, and it was more prudent to wait for that.

The whole city was given over to a state of gaiety; concerts, dances, gala performances at the opera, everywhere the public rejoicings were going on. And amongst it all, the admired of all admirers, the Princess Stephanie floated, light and happy as a butterfly, and a charming smile ever on her lips. Prince Arturo was a prominent figure also, but his smile was restrained, there were moments when he looked out on to the giddy, noisy world with moody eye and compressed lips. The chains were not visible to the casual eye, but Cora Levinski could see them. And the way to file those fetters was slowly forming in her mind.

She plunged lightly and deftly into the hive of pleasure; a few days later she was meeting the princess everywhere. They were very old friends, these two, and the greetings were cordial on both sides.

"Are you not getting just a little bit tired of it, princess?" Cora asked.

The red lips trembled, the blue eyes were moist.

"Sick and weary to my soul," the princess whispered. "Cora, all this is killing me. If you knew, if you only knew what I am suffering, what—-"

"My dear child, it is because I know that I am here. I have come from London to help you—I have all the resources of a great nation behind me. It is all a matter of patience and courage."

The dainty face flushed, a sweet confusion filled the moist blue eyes.

"It has been found out," she whispered. "The story is public property."

"Nothing of the kind. Your secret is absolutely safe, dear heart. You appear to do as you like here so long as you make no attempt to leave the capital. Can you manage to come and have tea with me at my hotel to-morrow?"

The princess came eagerly enough. As she dropped into a chair, the smile faded from her face, the beautiful features grew white as ivory. Then she dropped her head on the baroness's knee and burst into a torrent of tears.

"Don't be anxious," she said, "I shall be better presently. If you only knew the blessed relief of having somebody to confide in. Cora I am the most wretched girl in Marena. I am forced to smile and smile whilst my heart is breaking. Can't they realise that a princess is but flesh and blood after all? Can't they see that I am a girl with love and passion like the rest of them?"

"Tell me all about it, dear," the baroness said tenderly.

"Cora, there is little to tell. I have always loved Arturo. And I have always hated my cousin of Russia. All the more, perhaps, because I know that I am destined to be his wife . . . . It was more or less by accident that I met Arturo in Paris. And Madam Brandt gave us all our opportunity. She is fat and lazy, and loves good living ... And so we were married. My father pretends that it is not so, he says it is but a dream. But I know that they destroyed all the evidence, and got the witnesses away. Heaven knows how they found out. And my father came to Paris with a smile on his lips and he asked Arturo to...