"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.Ishall 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.Ishould go free, whereas you would be discharged.But what Idemand 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, "Iknow 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.Iknow 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 bedridden.The archbishop is the real king nowadays.
But he meddles not with the police."
"This is very sad.I suppose it would be impossible for strangers to see him now.""An audience?" a sparkle behind the spectacles."Is your business with the king, Monsieur?""My business is mine," shortly."I am only a tourist, and should have liked to see the king from mere curiosity.However, had you explained all this to me, I should not have caused you so many gray hairs.""Monsieur did not give me the chance," simply.
"True," the Englishman replied soberly.He began to think that he had been over hasty in asserting his privileges."But all this has nothing to do with me.My name is John Hamilton.See, it is engraved on the stock of the gun," catching it up and holding it under the spectacled eyes, which still observed it with some trepidation."That is the name in my passports, in the book down stairs, in the lining of my hat.I am sorry, since you were only obeying orders, that my rough play has caused you alarm." He unbolted the door."Good morning."The inspector left the room as swiftly as his short legs could carry him, ignoring the ethics of common politeness.As he stumbled down the stairs he cursed the minister of police for requiring this spy work of him, and not informing him why it was done.Ah, these cursed Anglais from Angleterre! They were all alike, and this one was the worst he had ever encountered.And those ugly black orifices in the gun! Peste! He would resign!
Yes, certainly he would resign.
As to the Englishman, he stood in the center of the room and scratched his head."Hang it, I've made an ass of myself.That blockhead will have the gendarmes about my ears.If they arrest me there will be the devil to pay.The Lord and the Baronet Fitzgerald!" he repeated.He sat down on the edge of the bed, and fell to laughing again."Confound these picture-book kingdoms! They always take themselves so seriously.Well, if the gendarmes call this afternoon I'll not be at home.No, thank you.
I shall be hunting pheasants."
And thereat he set to work cleaning the gun which had all but prostrated the inspector.Soon the room smelled of oiled rags and tobacco.Some-times the worker whistled softly.Sometimes he let the gun fall against his knee, and stared dreamily through the window at the flight of the ragged clouds.Again, he would shake his head, as if there were something which he failed to understand.Half an hour passed, when again some one knocked on the door.
"Come in!" Under his breath he added: "The gendarmes, likely."But it was only the proprietor of the hotel."Asking Herr's pardon," he said, "for this intrusion, but I have secured a man for you.I have the honor to recommend Johann Kopf as a good guide and hunter.""Send him up.If he pleases me, I'll use him."The proprietor withdrew.
Johann Kopf proved to be a young German with a round, ruddy face, which was so innocent of guile as to be out of harmony with the shrewd, piercing black eyes looking out of it.The Englishman eyed him inquisitively, even suspiciously.
"Are you a good hunter?" he asked.
