3
A Dangerous Mission
De quesnoy had refused to interest himself in the oily mysteries of the Hispano Suiza's engine, but had soon mastered the art of driving the machine. His long-acquired feel for the mouths of horses stood him in good stead when taking the wheel, and every day for the past three weeks he had spent an hour or more at it; so, now that he could take turns with de Vendome in driving, they hoped to do the journey back to Aranjuez in four days.
In that, luck was against them. Between Linares and Valdepenas they had their first breakdown. Fortunately it occurred within a few miles of the latter place and they were able to hire a team of mules that towed the car into it in something under two hours. But as yet this old market town had no garage and it was only after a prolonged struggle with a telephone system still in its teething stage that the Prince succeeded in getting through to Madrid and arranging for a spare part to be sent off by passenger train that evening. In consequence it was not until July the 3rd that they arrived in Aranjuez.
For the best part of two hundred years the Spanish Royal Family had made a practice of spending some of the hottest months there instead of remaining to swelter in Madrid, and the Infanta Maria Alfonsine had been given a life tenancy of the villa in the Royal Domain, in which they had slept on their outward journey. She and her husband, the Conde Ruiz, were now installed there, and at this time of the year it was also home to de Vendome; so they drove straight to it.
The villa was, in fact, a miniature palace, playing the rdle that Le Petit Trianon played to Versailles. In the past, Spanish Kings had often kept their mistresses there, but under the Regency of Queen Maria Cristina it had been given a new respectability. It faced on to a pretty little courtyard, was surrounded by woods and contained much beautiful furniture, including a remarkable collection of clocks.
Soon after their arrival a message was sent to the Palace asking when it would be convenient for de Quesnoy to wait upon the King. A reply in Don Alfonso's own hand was delivered that evening. In it he said he thought it preferable that the Count should not come to the Palace; so he would ride over to the villa the following morning.
At eleven o'clock, a fine boyish figure unattended except for a groom, he clattered into the courtyard. Having kissed his aunt and given vigorous handshakes to Conde Ruiz, the Prince and the Count, who had assembled to receive him, with a light, quick step he led the way up to the drawing-room. Refreshments had been set out there and while they drank a glass of champagne he asked de Vendome and de Quesnoy about their journey; then, after ten minutes, he said to the Infanta:
'Aunt, I have a private matter to discuss with M. le Comte de Quesnoy. You will, I am sure, allow us to make use of your drawing-room.'
E>e Quesnoy had already met the King a score of times - in England with the Londonderrys and at Eaton Hall, where he had stayed as a guest of the Duke and Duchess of Westminster while courting Queen Ena; in Madrid, when installed as a Knight of the Golden Fleece, at numerous functions there and he had played polo with him - but when the King stood up to acknowledge his aunt's curtsey, as the others smilingly withdrew, the Count could not help being again impressed that one so young should already have acquired such a regal presence.
He was only twenty and looked still younger, but he held himself splendidly upright and this, coupled with his very slender figure, made him appear taller than his medium height. His hair and eyes were dark, his thin face, still cleanshaven, was bronzed, his every movement had springiness and verve, and his mobile mouth broke into frequent smiles. He was wearing a white stock, a long waistcoat, a loose coat and beautifully-cut riding breeches, and his long legs were encased in top-boots polished to the brightness of a mirror.
With amusement and respect the Count recalled hearing about the shock he had given to his ministers when, at the age of sixteen, he had assumed power as a Sovereign. To the surprise and dismay of those elderly gentlemen, after the long and tiring ceremony of taking the oath to observe the Constitution he had declared that he would immediately hold his first Cabinet meeting. At it he had vigorously opposed certain changes that it was planned to make in the army, then laid it down in no uncertain terms that now he was of age the Cabinet's power to bestow rewards was revoked, and that henceforth he alone would decide who was to receive honours and decorations.
When the others had left the room he said at once to de Quesnoy, 'Count, after the tragedy that occurred on the day of my wedding I wrote to you expressing my sympathy in your great loss. I wish to assure you now that my letter was no mere formal condolence. Both the Queen and I felt most deeply for you.'
'Your Majesty is very gracious to concern yourself . . .' murmured the Count.
'But,' the King brushed aside the acknowledgement and hurried on, 'it would be another tragedy if a man of your abilities allowed his grief to turn him into a misanthrope; and that, I was distressed to learn from de Cordoba, there seems some danger of your doing.'
De Quesnoy nodded. 'It is true, Sir. During the past five weeks I've been no fit companion for anyone. But when your summons reached me in Algeciras I had just decided to go to South America and take up soldiering again. A break with the past and new activities will, I hope, in time restore my zest for life.'
'It would be some months at least before you could get there and take up responsibilities weighty enough to distract your mind, whereas I could offer you immediate employment; although I must add that it would be of a very unorthodox nature for a gentleman.'
'Even so, I'd be interested to hear your idea, Sir.'
'De Cordoba also told me that on several occasions you had lamented the fact that there was no way in which you could help to stamp out these accursed anarchists.'
'Nothing, Sir, would give me greater satisfaction.'
'Well, I can give you the chafice. But it would entail your assuming a new identity and living for a while in considerable discomfort.'
'From that, I assume your Majesty is suggesting that I should undertake to spy upon these people in collaboration with your police?'
'Spy upon them, yes; but without official assistance of any kind -other than that which I can give you. The very essence of my proposal lies in your having no connection with the police.'
The Count raised his 'devil's eyebrows'. 'I must confess, Sir, I fail to understand. I have no experience in such matters and . . .'
'Oh yes you have. Frangois told me how, after your secret return to Paris, you passed yourself off as a Russian revolutionary, ferreted out the secrets of the Masons, and provided the material that brought about the fall of the Government of that atheist Emile Combes.'
'True;' de Quesnoy gave a faint smile. 'I meant only that I know nothing whatever about Spanish anarchists, and unless your secret police collaborate with me . . .'
'Have I not made myself clear?' the King cut in, a shade impatiently. 'If you agree to undertake this venture I wish you to work entirely independently. I will, of course, furnish you with a certain amount of data with which to begin your investigation, but I intend that the police should be kept in ignorance of your activities.'
T accept what you say, Sir, but permit me to remark that I fail to see what you can possibly hope to gain by keeping me in a watertight compartment. It stands to reason that my chances of success would be far greater if I were to have the help of the department of your police that specializes in following up the activities of anarchists.'
'Ha!' exclaimed the King. 'That is just where you are wrong. But since you are a foreigner it is not surprising that you should be puzzled by my attitude. The great majority of my people would be, too, for very few of them have sufficient knowledge of what goes °n behind the scenes to realize the difficulties of my situation.'