The Complete Master Criminal Series (Illustrated Edition). Fred M. White
conspirator.
“And will the original plan stand?” asked the third.
“Exactly as arranged. You will look after all the details, as I shall be very busy till luncheon time to-morrow. You will see that the cold luncheon is properly laid out by the local caterer, and pay for it. Then the keys must be packed up so as to be posted to the landlord’s agent directly we leave the house. Let the carriage be ordered for 3.30 prompt, and pay the liveryman for that also. Let it be understood that we have just taken the house for six months furnished— which is, indeed, the fact—and go to a registry office to inquire about servants. Order a dozen, and say the housekeeper will call to interview them on a certain day. Each of us, till the time for changing comes, retains his present disguise.”
As a “make-up” artist Gryde had no equal. Several society acquaintances there passed him without a s:gn of recognition.
“That’s all very well,” suggested one of the lieutenants; “but suppose any of the Castle people happen to have seen Nana Rau?”
“Which they haven’t done,” said Gryde. “I have made the most minute inquiries on this head. Besides, one Eastern Potentate is as like another as two peas when he is in his full war paint. It’s any money nobody yonder speaks the language, and if they do I shall make it my pleasure to stick to English. As you have both presumably been in England before, you can do the same. You have carefully studied the plans of the apartments I gave to you?”
The others protested that they had.
“Very good,” Gryde concluded; “in that case there is no more to be said. We ought to find enough within easy reach yonder to reward us for all our trouble. And the servants of the sovereign shall assist us in getting it away. I hope you won’t find it altogether too slow.”
Gryde settled the score and they rose to depart. In the street they separated, and each took a different way. Then they went to bed early and virtuously as befit men who have before them matters of importance on the morrow. On the whole they slept better than Nana Rau, Mahrajah of Curriebad.
CHAPTER II
IT WAS with considerable misgivings that Nana Rau drove with two dusky assistants down to Epsom the following morning.
With him was all his baggage, a formidable-looking amount for a night out; but then the dazzling splendour of Eastern attire cannot be measured by Western sartorial restrictions. These big trunks contained the full war paint which Nana Rau and suite intended to don after luncheon, and ere proceeding to Windsor.
One thing Nana Rau was fully resolved upon. Nothing should induce him to play into “Vaughan’s” hands unless the latter could provide him with a proper way out of the difficulty. It was only natural that the Prince should desire to protect himself, and nothing short of being able to show that he was the innocent victim of a vile conspiracy would satisfy him.
The Indians reached Vaughan’s hospitable mansion at length and were met at the door by that individual himself.
“I am afraid I shall have to request you to dispense with a deal of ceremony,” he said. “The fact is, this place has been let furnished for about a year, and my late tenants only turned out of it last week, and thus we are terribly short of servants. These footmen don’t seem able to do anything without a lot of women to help them.”
Vaughan, or Gryde rather, rang the bell violently, and presently a pair of men-servants appeared breathlessly. They were a fine-looking pair of men, and their livery left nothing to be desired. The astute reader will have little difficulty in guessing who these footmen were.
“Whatever have you fellows been doing?” Gryde demanded.
“Please, sir,” replied one, in the purest of Cockney accents, “it’s all along of the new cook, which she’s drunk—”
Gryde waved these details aside.
“I desire to know nothing of these matters,” he replied. “Take the Prince up to the room prepared for him, and these gentlemen also, and see that they have everything they require. Luncheon is prepared, I suppose?”
“Luncheon is waiting in the dining-room now, sir.”
A little later and Nana Rau, together with his host and attendants, sat down to one of the most perfect luncheons it is possible to imagine. The Prince was a bit of an epicure in his way, and as the meal proceeded he softened. The choice champagne rendered him indifferent to the calls of Windsor. And really, it seemed quite bad taste to stand in the light of so enlightened a bon vivant as Vaughan.
Absolutely nothing had been left undone. The luncheon was a work of art, the wines were cameos in their way, and the waiting of the two confederates left nothing to be desired. In the poetic language of the modern Babylon, Nana Rau was an accomplished “tiddler”; in the old days he would have been a three-bottle man, and to leave such a feast of alcohol for a mere Court function partook almost of the nature of a crime.
“Then why leave it?” Gryde asked, when the attendants had withdrawn and he and the Prince were alone. “Stay and make an evening of it.”
“What’s the good of talking that dashed nonsense?” said Nana Rau thickly. “You know as well as possible that I must go.”
“But it was arranged that I was to take your place.”
“O! I know that’s your game. I suppose you’ve got some diplomatic swindle on. Only show me a clear way out—a way which will absolutely absolve me from all blame—and you shall take my place with pleasure.”
“I am about to do so,” said Gryde.
“I think I shall be able to satisfy even your scruples if you will permit me to leave you for a minute.”
Nana Rau waved his hand majestically. He wanted no other company beyond that superb champagne. He closed his eyes with the ecstasy of it He opened them again with a start five minutes later. Then, with a beatific smile upon his face, he slipped from his chair on to the floor and slept.
* * * * *
Let no slur rest upon the fair fame of Nana Rau. For instance, he was a great deal more sober than Mr. Pickwick when discovered in the village pound. But even the strongest of heads cannot rise superior to a bottle or so of ‘74 champagne plus a narcotic of potent properties.
A minute or two later Gryde entered the room, followed by his two “footmen.”
“You fellows did your part uncommonly well,” Gryde said. “The Christy minstrel on the floor is firm enough, and so are the others. They are perfectly safe here until this time to-morrow. Now then, boys—no time to be lost. Let us go upstairs at once and get the Eastern robes on. Very nice to think that we should be actually provided with our disguises.”
The work was by no means easy, though Gryde was an artist so far as this branch of his profession was concerned. But patience and skill overcomes all things, and at length the task was accomplished. It would indeed have puzzled an Englishman to have told the counterfeit from the originals.
“This thing will make a bit of a stir,” said Gryde.
“Egad, you are right there,” said one of the others, grimly. “Look here, Mr. Vaughan, I’m not very particular, but I have jibbed a bit over this job. Any ordinary woman in England, but when it comes to—”
“You seem to regard me as somewhat simple,” Gryde interrupted. “Do you suppose I should be guilty of anything in such fearful taste?”
“But I was under the impression that we were going down on purpose to—”
“So we are. But my words will come true all the same. At