The Puppet Crown [12]
began to gather. "Now," opening the hat box and taking out a silk hat, "this is a hat, purchased in Paris at Cook's. There is nothing in the lining but felt. Look into the box; nothing. Take out your book and follow me closely," he continued, dividing the traveling bag into halves, and he began to enumerate the contents.
"But, Monsieur!" remonstrated the inspector, who did not enjoy this infringement of his prerogatives; his was the part to overhaul. "This is--"
"Be still and follow me," and the Englishman went on with the inventory. "There!" when he had done, "not a dutiable thing except this German-Scotch whisky, and that is so bad that I give it to you rather than pay duty. What next? My passports? Here they are, absolutely flawless, vised by the authorities in Vienna."
The slips crackled in the fluttering fingers of the inspector. "They are as you say, Monsieur," he said, returning the permits. Then he added timidly, "And the gun cases?"
"The gun cases!" The pipe spilled its coal to the floor. "The gun cases!"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"And why do you wish to look into them?" with agitation.
"Smugglers sometimes fill them with cigars."
"Ah!" The Englishman selected two loaded shells, drew a gun from the case, threw up the breech and rammed in the shells. Then he extended the weapon to within an inch of the terrified inspector's nose. "Now, Monsieur the Spectacles, look in there and tell me what you see."
The fellow sank half-fainting into a chair. "Mon Dieu, Monsieur, would you kill me who have a family?"
"What's a customs inspector, more or less?" asked the terrible islander, laughing. "I advise you not to ask me to let you look into the other gun, out of consideration for your family. It has hair triggers, and my fingers tremble."
"Monsieur, Monsieur, you do wrong to trifle with the law. I shall be obliged to report you. You will be arrested."
"Nothing of the kind," was the retort. "I have only to inform the British minister how remiss you were in your obligations. I should go free, whereas you would be discharged. But what I demand to know is, what the devil is the meaning of this farce."
"I am simply obeying orders," answered the inspector, wiping his forehead. "It is not a farce, as Monsieur will find." Then, as if to excuse this implied threat: "Will Monsieur please point the gun the other way?"
The Englishman unloaded the gun and tossed it on the bed.
"Thanks. In coming here I simply obeyed the orders of the minister of police."
"And what in the world did you expect to find?"
"We are looking--that is, they are looking--O, Monsieur, it is impossible for me to disclose to you my government's purposes."
"What and whom were you expecting?" demanded the Englishman. "You shall not leave this room till you have fully explained this remarkable intrusion."
"We were expecting the Lord and Baronet Fitzgerald."
"The lord!" laughing. "Does the lord visit Bleiberg often, then, that you prepare this sort of a reception? And the Baronet Fitzgerald?"
"They are the same and the one person."
"And who the deuce is he; a spy, a smuggler, a villain, or what?"
"As to that, Monsieur," with a wonder why this man laughed, "I know no more than you. But I do know that for the past month every Englishman has been subjected to this surveillance, and has submitted with more grace than you," with an oblique glance.
"What! Examined his luggage at the hotel?"
"Yes, Monsieur. It is the order of the minister of police. I know not why." The natural color was returning to his cheeks.
"This is a fine country, I must say. At least the king should acquaint his visitors with the true cause of this treatment." In his turn the Englishman resorted to oblique glances.
"The king?" The inspector raised a shoulder and spread his hands. "The king is a paralytic, Monsieur, and has little to say these days."
"A paralytic? I thought he was called `the handsome monarch'?"
"That was years ago, Monsieur. For three years he has been helpless and
"But, Monsieur!" remonstrated the inspector, who did not enjoy this infringement of his prerogatives; his was the part to overhaul. "This is--"
"Be still and follow me," and the Englishman went on with the inventory. "There!" when he had done, "not a dutiable thing except this German-Scotch whisky, and that is so bad that I give it to you rather than pay duty. What next? My passports? Here they are, absolutely flawless, vised by the authorities in Vienna."
The slips crackled in the fluttering fingers of the inspector. "They are as you say, Monsieur," he said, returning the permits. Then he added timidly, "And the gun cases?"
"The gun cases!" The pipe spilled its coal to the floor. "The gun cases!"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"And why do you wish to look into them?" with agitation.
"Smugglers sometimes fill them with cigars."
"Ah!" The Englishman selected two loaded shells, drew a gun from the case, threw up the breech and rammed in the shells. Then he extended the weapon to within an inch of the terrified inspector's nose. "Now, Monsieur the Spectacles, look in there and tell me what you see."
The fellow sank half-fainting into a chair. "Mon Dieu, Monsieur, would you kill me who have a family?"
"What's a customs inspector, more or less?" asked the terrible islander, laughing. "I advise you not to ask me to let you look into the other gun, out of consideration for your family. It has hair triggers, and my fingers tremble."
"Monsieur, Monsieur, you do wrong to trifle with the law. I shall be obliged to report you. You will be arrested."
"Nothing of the kind," was the retort. "I have only to inform the British minister how remiss you were in your obligations. I should go free, whereas you would be discharged. But what I demand to know is, what the devil is the meaning of this farce."
"I am simply obeying orders," answered the inspector, wiping his forehead. "It is not a farce, as Monsieur will find." Then, as if to excuse this implied threat: "Will Monsieur please point the gun the other way?"
The Englishman unloaded the gun and tossed it on the bed.
"Thanks. In coming here I simply obeyed the orders of the minister of police."
"And what in the world did you expect to find?"
"We are looking--that is, they are looking--O, Monsieur, it is impossible for me to disclose to you my government's purposes."
"What and whom were you expecting?" demanded the Englishman. "You shall not leave this room till you have fully explained this remarkable intrusion."
"We were expecting the Lord and Baronet Fitzgerald."
"The lord!" laughing. "Does the lord visit Bleiberg often, then, that you prepare this sort of a reception? And the Baronet Fitzgerald?"
"They are the same and the one person."
"And who the deuce is he; a spy, a smuggler, a villain, or what?"
"As to that, Monsieur," with a wonder why this man laughed, "I know no more than you. But I do know that for the past month every Englishman has been subjected to this surveillance, and has submitted with more grace than you," with an oblique glance.
"What! Examined his luggage at the hotel?"
"Yes, Monsieur. It is the order of the minister of police. I know not why." The natural color was returning to his cheeks.
"This is a fine country, I must say. At least the king should acquaint his visitors with the true cause of this treatment." In his turn the Englishman resorted to oblique glances.
"The king?" The inspector raised a shoulder and spread his hands. "The king is a paralytic, Monsieur, and has little to say these days."
"A paralytic? I thought he was called `the handsome monarch'?"
"That was years ago, Monsieur. For three years he has been helpless and