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The King's Jackal By: Richard Harding Davis (1864-1916) |
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BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS
The King's Jackal
I The private terrace of the Hotel Grand Bretagne, at Tangier, was shaded
by a great awning of red and green and yellow, and strewn with colored
mats, and plants in pots, and wicker chairs. It reached out from the
Kings apartments into the Garden of Palms, and was hidden by them on
two sides, and showed from the third the blue waters of the
Mediterranean and the great shadow of Gibraltar in the distance. The Sultan of Morocco had given orders from Fez that the King of
Messina, in spite of his incognito, should be treated during his stay
in Tangier with the consideration due to his rank, so one half of the
Hotel Grand Bretagne had been set aside for him and his suite, and two
soldiers of the Bashaw's Guard sat outside of his door with drawn
swords. They were answerable with their heads for the life and safety
of the Sultan's guest, and as they could speak no language but their
own, they made a visit to his Majesty more a matter of adventure than
of etiquette. Niccolas, the King's majordomo, stepped out upon the terrace and swept
the Mediterranean with a field glass for the third time since sunrise.
He lowered it, and turned doubtfully toward the two soldiers. "The boat from Gibraltar has she arrived yet?" he asked. The two ebony figures shook their heads stiffly, as though they
resented this introduction of a foreign language, and continued to
shake their heads as the servant addressed the same question to them in
a succession of strange tongues. "Well," said Colonel Erhaupt, briskly, as he followed Niccolas out upon
the terrace, "has the boat arrived? And the launch from the yacht," he
continued, "has it started for shore yet?" The man pointed to where the yacht lay, a mile outside the harbor, and
handed him the glass. "It is but just now leaving the ship's side," he said. "But I cannot
make out who comes in her. Ah, pardon," he added quickly, as he
pointed to a stout elderly gentleman who walked rapidly toward them
through the garden. "The Gibraltar boat must be in, sir. Here is
Baron Barrat coming up the path." Colonel Erhaupt gave an exclamation of satisfaction, and waved his hand
to the newcomer in welcome. "Go tell his Majesty," he said to the servant. The man hesitated and bowed. "His Majesty still sleeps." "Wake him," commanded Erhaupt. "Tell him I said to do so. Well,
Baron," he cried, gayly, as he stepped forward, "welcome or are you
welcome?" he added, with an uneasy laugh. "I should be. I have succeeded," the other replied gruffly, as he
brushed past him. "Where is the King?" "He will be here in a moment. I have sent to wake him. And you have
been successful? Good. I congratulate you. How far successful?" The Baron threw himself into one of the wicker chairs, and clapped his
hands impatiently for a servant. "Twelve thousand pounds in all," he
replied. "That's more than he expected. It was like pulling teeth at
first. I want some coffee at once," he said to the attendant, "and a
bath. That boat reeked with Moors and cattle, and there was no
wagon lit on the train from Madrid. I sat up all night, and played
cards with that young Cellini. Have Madame Zara and Kalonay returned?
I see the yacht in the harbor. Did she succeed?" "We do not know; the boat only arrived at daybreak. They are probably
on the launch that is coming in now." As Barrat sipped his coffee and munched his rolls with the silent
energy of a hungry man, the Colonel turned and strode up and down the
terrace, pulling at his mustache and glancing sideways. When the Baron
had lighted a cigarette and thrown himself back in his chair, Erhaupt
halted and surveyed him in some anxiety. "You have been gone over two weeks," he said. "I should like to see
you accomplish as much in as short a time," growled the other. "You
know Paris. You know how hard it is to get people to be serious there.
I had the devil's own time at first. You got my cablegram?" "Yes; it wasn't encouraging... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Literature |
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