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 Gryde asked, when the attendants had withdrawn and he and the Prince were alone.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 six o’clock this evening important information, bearing upon the face of it every evidence of truth, will reach the India Office. A certain great lady will be informed of the same without delay. And Nana Rau will not kiss the hand of her to whom he owes fealty.”
The scrupulous one said no more, being quite satisfied with this explanation.
A little later a resplendent carriage drove up to the house, and the three Indians gravely emerged. Two of them stood aside and bowed low as Gryde passed, and then, when the two huge trunks were hoisted on the carriage, they entered.
The journey to Paddington was made without incident. Gryde had laid his plans so carefully, he had made so many inquiries beforehand, that he has nothing to fear from any display of ignorance on his part.
Everything went well, the retained carriage was entered at length, and the train started.
“Nothing wanting,” said Gryde, with an air of satisfaction; “not a single hitch—and, really, this is a most critical part of the performance. They might have laid a strip of crimson carpet across the platform, but at times like these one is not disposed to be hypercritical. Windsor will be the next trouble.”
But Windsor proved no bother at all. The red liveried servants were allowed to take everything in their own hands, and ere long the adventurers found themselves bowling along the wide avenues up to the Castle.
“How do you feel?” asked Gryde.
“Uncommonly nervous,” said the others in chorus.
Gryde smiled. He did not appear to be suffering from the same malady. On the contrary, he was perfectly at his ease.
“The great charm of this mode of life,” he muttered,” lies in the fact that it never lacks variety.”
CHAPTER III
AS FAR AS their reception was concerned, even the sensitive mind of an Indian could find nothing at which to take offence. It was, of course, with profound regret that the pseudo Nana Rau heard that no visitors could be expected at the royal table the same evening in consequence of a slight indisposition on the part of a certain great ruler. Nor was it suggested by the gorgeous official who conducted the interview that the visit of the Prince should be prolonged in consequence.
“It is greatly to be regretted,” Nana murmured.
“I can assure you that the regret is mutual,” was the reply. “If the Prince will honour us by dining with the Household, together with his suite”
“I shall be delighted,” the Prince interpolated. “As to my suite, they had better dine in the apartment apportioned to their use. Afterwards you will greatly oblige me by letting an attendant conduct them over the state rooms, and show them some of the treasures of this wonderful place. It is a pleasure that my faithful followers have looked forward to for a long time.”
“Everything shall be done to make them comfortable,” the big official replied. “May I remind the Prince that we dine at eight.”
Nana Rau nodded carelessly and intimated his desire to be alone with his men. The request was immediately granted. For a little time the three conspirators stood as far from the door as possible talking in whispers.
“You see how beautifully things are falling out,” said Gryde. “We are here without any suspicion being aroused. There is no chance of public sentiment being awakened by a flagrant insult to the sovereign. All we have to do is to fill these big trunks in the still watches of the night, and get these good people to convey them to the station for us in the morning. By way of spotting all the things worth having, an attendant will take you round presently and point out the plums to you. But I
