The Puppet Crown
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第7章

"Has nothing whatever to do with the matter.Something greater, which goes by the name of self-interest.""Ah," said the count, his wrinkles relaxing; "then it is on your own responsibility?""Precisely."

"But five millions of crowns--two hundred and fifty thousand pounds!" The minister could not compose himself."This is a vast sum of money.We expected not an individual, but a syndicate, to accept our securities, to become debtors to the various banks on the continent.But a personal affair! Five millions of crowns! The possibilities of your wealth overwhelm me."The Englishman smiled."I dare say I have more than my share of this world's goods.I can give you a check for the amount on the bank of England.""Your Majesty's lamented predecessor--"

"Is dead," said the king gently.He had no desire to hear the minister recount that ruler's virtues."Peace to his ashes.""Five millions of crowns!" The minister had lost his equipoise in the face of the Englishman's great riches, of which hitherto he had held some doubts.Suddenly a vivid thought entered his confused brain.The paper cutter in his hand trembled.In the breathing space allowed him he began to calculate rapidly.The king and the diplomat had been in the garden; something had passed between them.What? The paper cutter slowly ceased its uneven movements.The count calmly placed it behind the inkwells.

....The Englishman knew.The glitter of gold gave way to the thought of the peril.A chasm yawned at his feet.But he was an old soldier in the game of words and cross-purposes.

"We should be happy to accord you the privilege of becoming the kingdom's creditor," he said, smiling at the diplomat, whom nothing had escaped."I am afraid, however, that your request has been submitted too late.At ten o'clock this morning the transfer of the certificates would have been a simple matter.

There are twenty in all; it may not be too late to secure some of them." He looked tranquilly from the Englishman to the king.

The smiling mask fell from the king's face; he felt that he was lost.He tried to catch his friend's eye, but the diplomat was deeply interested in the console of the fireplace.

"They seem to be at a premium," the Englishman said, "which speaks well for the prosperity of the country.I am sorry to have troubled you.""It would have been a pleasure indeed," replied the count.He stood secure within his fortress, so secure that he would have liked to laugh.

"It is too bad," said the king, pulling his thoughts together.

"Your Majesty is giving the matter too much importance," said the diplomat."It was merely a whim.I shall have the pleasure and honor of presenting my successor this evening."The count bent low, while the king nodded absently.He was thinking that a penful of ink, carelessly trailed over a sheet of paper, had lost him his throne.He was about to draw the arm of the diplomat through his own, when his step was arrested by the entrance of a messenger who presented a letter to the minister of finance.