Seated together behind the conference table at the head of the room, the venerable statesman turned and looked down at the strange small boy with the somewhat too-large head and plaintive face, half as though he expected the explanation to come from him.

The small boy likewise turned and looked up into the august countenance of the venerable statesman out of his liquid, sad and knowing eyes, and b.u.t.toned up his lips. The Marquis saw them being firmly pressed together, remembered what Mrs Harris had told him about little Henry's disinclination for speech, and knew that there would be no help forthcoming there. Also, the wait between the asking of the question and the time when he had to reply was waxing heavy and intolerable; it was becoming absolutely necessary to say something.

The Marquis cleared his throat. 'He - he is my grandson,' he said.

For some unknown reason, but characteristic of some press conferences, this statement appeared to create a sensation. 'Say, it's his grandson! Did you hear that - it's his grandson? What do you know, it's his grandson!' Notebooks appeared, memos were scribbled, while the photographers now surged forward shouting their own war cries as their flash lamps began to go off in the faces of their victims, blinding the Marquis and confusing him even more. 'Hold it, Amba.s.sador. Look this way, Marquis. Put your arm around the kid, Marquis. Hey kid, move up to your grandpa - closer, closer. Give us a smile now. That's it. Just one more! Just one more! Put your arm around his neck, son! Get up on his lap, bub. How about giving him a big kiss?'

Added to this bedlam were the further questions engendered by the revelation that the French Amba.s.sador had a member of his family travelling with him. 'What's his name? Whose kid is he? Where's he going?'

The Marquis found himself caught up in them. 'His name is Henry.'

'Henry! Henry or Henri? Is he French or English?'

The Marquis was aware that sometime, somewhere, little Henry would have to open his mouth, and so he replied, 'English.'

The press conference now had settled down into some kind of semblance of order and a man in the rear of the room arose and, speaking with the British accent natural to the correspondent of the Daily Mail Daily Mail, asked, 'Would that be Lord Dartington's son, Your Excellency?' As a good English reporter, he was up on his Burke's Peerage and knew that one of the daughters of the Marquis de Cha.s.sagne had married Lord Dartington of Stowe.

Diplomats ordinarily are supposed never to become fl.u.s.tered, and in the conduct of his official life the Marquis had ice-water in his veins, but this time it was a little too much and too unexpected, and the disaster engulfing him too unforeseen and unprepared for.

To tell the truth was, of course, utterly unthinkable. To reply 'no' would lead to further embarra.s.sing questions, and so without reflecting further the Marquis said, 'Yes, yes.' All he wished for now was to conclude this ordeal as quickly as possible and reach the friendly shelter of the shed on the pier, where Mrs Harris had promised to come and relieve him of the now embarra.s.sing presence of little Henry.

But this latest revelation caused even a greater sensation, and once again the photographers surged forward, their flash lamps winking and flaring, while the shouts of the cameramen rose to a new pitch: 'What did he say? He's the son of a Lord? That makes him a Dook, don't it?'

'Brother, are you a square! That makes him a Sir. Only relations of the Queen are Dooks.'

'What's that?' somebody said. 'He's related to the Queen? Hey, Dook, look this way! Give us a smile, Lord. What's his name - Bedlington? How about you giving the Marquis the high sign?'

Beneath his dignified exterior the Marquis broke into a cold sweat at the horror of the thought that now that the press had him indissolubly linked by blood with little Henry it was not going to be quite so simple for these ties to be severed on the pier when Mrs Harris came to collect him.

The reporters and radio men now crowded about urging, 'OK, Henry, how about saying something? Are you going to go to school here? Are you going to learn to play base-ball? Have you got a message for American youth? Give us your impressions of America. Where does your Daddy live - in a castle?'

To this barrage little Henry remained mute and kept intact his reputation for taciturnity. The interviewers became more and more urgent, and little Henry's silence thicker and thicker. Finally one impatient inquisitor said facetiously, 'What's the matter - has the cat got your tongue? I don't believe the Marquis is your grand-daddy at all.'

Thereupon little Henry unb.u.t.toned his lips. The veracity of his benefactor was being impugned. The nice bloke with the white hair and kind eyes had told a whopping big lie for him, and now corroboration was being demanded for that lie. As Mrs Harris had said, little Henry was always one to back up a pal.

From the unb.u.t.toned lips, in the expected childish treble, came the words, 'You're b.l.o.o.d.y well right 'e's me grandfather.'

In the back of the room, the eyebrows of the correspondent of the Daily Mail Daily Mail were elevated clear up to the ceiling. were elevated clear up to the ceiling.

The Marquis felt himself engulfed by a wave of horror. He did not know that the catastrophe was just beginning to warm up.

BACK in Tourist-Cla.s.s, all packed and dolled up in their best clothes, their pa.s.sports and vaccination certificates clutched in their hands, Ada Harris and Mrs b.u.t.terfield stood on deck by the rail, thrilled with their first real look at this new and exciting land, and gazed down upon the bustle of tugs, cutters, and small boats crowding around the gangways of the in Tourist-Cla.s.s, all packed and dolled up in their best clothes, their pa.s.sports and vaccination certificates clutched in their hands, Ada Harris and Mrs b.u.t.terfield stood on deck by the rail, thrilled with their first real look at this new and exciting land, and gazed down upon the bustle of tugs, cutters, and small boats crowding around the gangways of the Ville de Paris. Ville de Paris.

Earlier in the morning little Henry had been escorted forward to the cabin of the Marquis, his head filled with instructions to cover every possible contingency should Mrs Harris be delayed, etc.

Mrs Harris was triumphant, Mrs b.u.t.terfield nervous and perspiring now that action was again demanded of them and another crisis to be faced. She said, 'Ow Ada, are you sure it'll be all right? I've got a feeling in me bones somefink 'orrible is going to 'appen.'

Even if Mrs Harris had been able to avail herself of the prophetic nature of Mrs b.u.t.terfield's skeleton, it was anyway too late now to alter the plan, and whilst she was not entirely at her ease with little Henry away from her side - during the five days on the ship she had become more than ever attached to him - she refused to be depressed. Nevertheless, just to make sure she went over the planned routine.

She said to her friend, 'Come on love, buck up and keep your hair on - what's to go wrong?' She ticked off the sequence on each finger of her hand: ' 'E goes through with the Marquis, no questions asked. Once he's on the pier 'e goes and stands under the letter "B" - "B" for Brown - where we collect him. There'll be a taxi for us. 'Enry plays the standing-next-to-somebody-else game until the Schreibers have gone off. Then 'e gets in with us. We 've got the address. When we get there he waits down on the pavement until we 'ave a look about. When the coast's clear we'll have 'im upstairs with us as quick as wink. Didn't Mrs Schreiber say there was enough room in the flat for a regiment to get lost in? It'll only be a couple of days 'til we find 'is dad, and then Bob's yer uncle. Garn now and forget it, and enjoy yerself. What's to go wrong?'

'Somefink,' said Mrs b.u.t.terfield firmly.

Looking down over the side and a little before them they could see a gleaming white and grey U.S. Government cutter with a three-inch gun mounted forward, radar mast, and huge American flag. She was connected by a gangway to an opening low in the side of the ocean liner, and as the two women watched, obviously something of importance was about to take place, for the musicians aft pulled themselves together at the behest of their leader, a guard of sailors, and marines ranged themselves at the gangway in charge of a much beribboned officer, the bandleader raised his arms, the officer shouted a command, rifle bolts clicked, arms were presented, the bandleader's baton descended, the band crashed into 'The Star Spangled Banner', to be followed by the stirring strain of 'The Stars and Stripes Forever'.

To this rousing Sousa march there appeared a procession of gold-braided and uniformed aides aides provided by the Army, the Navy, and the Air Force, followed by dignitaries in striped trousers, frock coats and top hats, all emerging from the hole in the side of the provided by the Army, the Navy, and the Air Force, followed by dignitaries in striped trousers, frock coats and top hats, all emerging from the hole in the side of the Ville de Paris Ville de Paris and marching down the gangplank on to the cutter. Then came a momentary pause, the bandleader again raised his arms and brought them down violently and his musicians dutifully and loudly went into a rendition of 'La Ma.r.s.eillaise'. The figure of a handsome, erect, and elegant old man likewise in striped trousers, grey frock coat, and grey top hat - an old man with white hair and moustache and piercing blue eyes under tufted eyebrows, the rosette of a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour in his b.u.t.tonhole - appeared at the exit and stood there for a moment, removing his hat and holding it against his shoulder during the playing of the French anthem. and marching down the gangplank on to the cutter. Then came a momentary pause, the bandleader again raised his arms and brought them down violently and his musicians dutifully and loudly went into a rendition of 'La Ma.r.s.eillaise'. The figure of a handsome, erect, and elegant old man likewise in striped trousers, grey frock coat, and grey top hat - an old man with white hair and moustache and piercing blue eyes under tufted eyebrows, the rosette of a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour in his b.u.t.tonhole - appeared at the exit and stood there for a moment, removing his hat and holding it against his shoulder during the playing of the French anthem.

'It's me friend - it's the Marquis!' said Mrs Harris, not yet aware of what was happening.

Not so Mrs b.u.t.terfield, for as the anthem ended and to the strains of another tune the Marquis marched down the gangway, the stout woman uttered a piercing scream and pointed a fat and shaking finger, 'Look,' she cried, 'it's little 'Enry - 'e's going wiv 'im!'

He was, too. His hand clutched firmly in that of the imma culately uniformed Bayswater, and followed by secretary and valet and lesser members of the Emba.s.sy entourage, little Henry was following the Marquis down the incline and on to the cutter, where he likewise graciously accepted the presented arms of the marines' guard of honour.

With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Mrs Harris, began to twig what was happening. Just before they stepped on to the cutter, Mrs Harris saw the grey, refined face of Bayswater looking up and anxiously scanning the topside of the ship. By one of those minor miracles of communication he spotted Mrs Harris, and for an instant their eyes met, at which point Mr Bayswater delivered himself of a shrug which told Mrs Harris plainer than words that he was in the grip of something bigger than himself, and was messaging his regrets.

It was indeed so. What had enmeshed Bayswater, little Henry, and the Marquis was not only the high esteem in which the Marquis Hypolite de Cha.s.sagne was held personally in Washington, but the fact that the Administration had thought it a good idea to b.u.t.ter up de Gaulle, who had been acting somewhat peculiar of late, by according extra honours to his Amba.s.sador and disembarking him and his entourage at Quarantine.

The Marquis, his luggage, and all those with him were taken off the ship and sailed in state through the Narrows and into New York Harbour, where another guard of honour awaited them at the Battery, along with a fleet of Cadillacs. They were then rolled uptown through the awesome chasm of Lower Broadway, where a small ticker-tape welcome had been organised, and bits of torn telephone books and festoons of paper ribbon covered with figures testifying to America's financial grandeur floated down upon little Henry's head. The cavalcade thereupon proceeded across the Queensboro Bridge and out to Idlewild Field, where the President's private aircraft, the Columbia, Columbia, waited, and the Marquis and all those connected with him with the exception of Bayswater, who remained behind to drive the Rolls down - were flown to Washington. waited, and the Marquis and all those connected with him with the exception of Bayswater, who remained behind to drive the Rolls down - were flown to Washington.

Little Henry went too. He had never had such a wonderful time in all his life. This was a bit of all right.

Little Henry was gone, but one could hardly say that he was forgotten, for the afternoon papers and those of the morning following gave full coverage to the arrival of the new French Amba.s.sador and his grandson, complete with pictures of same in the various artful poses into which he had been enticed by the veteran ship news photographers - hugging his grandfather, kissing his grandfather, sitting on his grandfather's lap, or staring solemnly with his large, disturbing eyes directly into the camera.

The austere Times Times reported Henry's presence with a single line in which it said that the Marquis was accompanied by his grandson, the Honourable Henry Dartington, youngest son of Lord Dartington of Stowe, but the other newspapers, particularly those employing female feature writers, did some embroidery upon the story: 'The handsome, white-haired, still virile French Amba.s.sador, who caused many feminine hearts to beat faster during the voyage, brought along his little grandson, Lord Henry Partington, who is related to the Queen of England. reported Henry's presence with a single line in which it said that the Marquis was accompanied by his grandson, the Honourable Henry Dartington, youngest son of Lord Dartington of Stowe, but the other newspapers, particularly those employing female feature writers, did some embroidery upon the story: 'The handsome, white-haired, still virile French Amba.s.sador, who caused many feminine hearts to beat faster during the voyage, brought along his little grandson, Lord Henry Partington, who is related to the Queen of England.

'Lord Partington, who is on holiday here from Eton, where he is reported to be an Honour Student, said, "I have brought a message from the youth of England to the youth of America - us kids must stick together. If we do not swim together we will sink. Everyone ought to learn to swim." He said the thing he wanted to see most in America was a baseball game, and will attend the YankeeRed Sox game at the Yankee Stadium this afternoon.'

In the penthouse at number 650 Park Avenue, Mrs Schreiber (and in the kitchen Mrs Harris and Mrs b.u.t.terfield too) looked at these photographs and read the stories with her eyes popping.

'My goodness,' she said, 'so young, and a real Lord al ready. And it says here he's a relation of the Queen. And we were on the same ship. What a nice-looking little boy - and what beautiful eyes. He's a real little gentleman, isn't he? You can take one look and tell he's an aristocrat. When the family's good, everything's good.' Then her eyes met those of her husband, and they were caught there for a moment, and each knew of what the other was thinking.

To break the spell Mr Schreiber said quickly, 'I don't remember seeing him on the ship. That's a good picture of you, Henrietta - but I look like my own grandfather,' for they too had been photographed by the press and appeared among the arrivals of importance in the s.s. Ville de Paris. Ville de Paris.

And in the vast kitchen of the penthouse, surrounded by the newspapers, from the front pages of which the promoted little Henry stared up at them, Mrs b.u.t.terfield dithered and blubbered. 'What are you going to do now? I told yer somefink was going to 'appen.'

For once Mrs Harris did not have an answer. She said, 'I'm blowed if I know, Vi. And you might as well know, I forgot to give Mr Bayswater our address.'

650 Park Avenue, New York 21, N.Y N.Y.

15 April

DEAR M MARQUIS,.

I hope this letter reaches you, as I forgot to give our address to Mr Bayswater, and so you could not know where we are.

Mrs b.u.t.terfield and I saw you going on to the little boat that took you off our steamer, which neither you nor I thought of and did not expect. We waved to you, but I do not think you saw us, but Mr Bayswater and little Henry did.

We were very sorry we got you into this trouble with Henry. It was very good of you to say he was your grandson. I suppose you could not say anything else, and the pictures in the paper look very good. Ha ha, I guess it was not such a lark after all, and we are very sorry if we caused you any trouble.

You are a very kind man and I will come and get little Henry on Sat.u.r.day when Mrs Schreiber has given me the day off. I will come on the train in the morning.

Mrs Schreiber has a very large flat and our rooms at the back are very nice. There are five of them with two bathrooms, and we will have no trouble in keeping little Henry out of sight when I bring him back, so you do not need to worry.

I have not had much time for sightseeing yet, though I have managed to visit Woodlawn Cemetery and it is a very nice one, with very many people buried there. Mrs b.u.t.terfield is still very nervous crossing the streets with the traffic all going the wrong side, and policemen blowing whistles at her, but the other day she went to a supermarket on Lexington Avenue to buy a few things for dinner and before she came away she had spent $187 of Mrs Schreiber's money, for she had never been in one before and she could not stop putting things in the little basket and wheeling them away.

Mrs b.u.t.terfield joins me in sending you her kindest regards and thanking you for your kindness and wishes me to say how sorry she is you have had all this trouble and hopes that little Henry has behaved himself like a little gentleman.

If Sat.u.r.day is alright, I will be there to collect him at 1 o'clock.

Please give my regards to Mr Bayswater and tell him I will write to him and thank him myself.

How are you getting on in the new job?

Hoping this leaves you in the pink as it does me, Yours sincerely, A. HARRIS.

French Emba.s.sy, 18 G. Street, Washington N N 10, 10, D.C D.C.

17 April

DEAR M MRS H HARRIS,.

Your welcome letter arrived here this morning, and although nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing you again next Sat.u.r.day, I am afraid that collecting little Henry, unfortunately, now that I have been compelled to claim him as a blood relative, will not be quite that simple or instantaneous. The fact is that Henry has been an immediate success here, not only due to the social position with which I was led to endow him when questioned by reporters on board the ship, but also because of his own personal magnetism. He has charmed an ever-growing circle of acquaintances in the Corps Diplomatique by not only his ability to hold his tongue, but the quaint expressions which emerge when he loosens it. He is also, I am happy to note, extremely handy with his mitts, as the British would say, and has already endeared himself to our little community by hitting the son of the Krasnodarian Minister - a child quite as unattractive as his father - one on the nose for making disparaging remarks about Great Britain, France, and the United States.

The truth is that little Henry has been the recipient of so many invitations which we have been compelled to accept due to the ident.i.ty which he has a.s.sumed, that he will not be free to return to you until a week from Thursday, or possibly the following Monday. I shall write and let you know. In the meantime, this will leave you free to pursue your search for the boy's father, and perhaps bring this little adventure of yours to a rapid and happy conclusion.

I must confess that I await with some trepidation word from my son-in-law about this newest addition to his family. I have not heard from him as yet, but have no doubt that I shall.

As for myself, I am surely not as important as I am being made to feel by the hospitable Americans, but the sensation is a pleasant one. Is this not a wonderful and warm-hearted people? We English and French must cement an enduring friendship with them if the world is not to be lost.

As soon as I can extricate Henry from the social whirl into which circ.u.mstances have forced him I will notify you. In the meantime, let me know how the search for his father proceeds.

Yours, CHa.s.sAGNE.

NIGHT LETTER TELEGRAM FROM STOWE-ON-DART, DEVONSHIRE.

18 April

MY DEAR HYPOLITE HAVE JUST SEEN WIRE PHOTO AND STORIES IN AMERICAN PRESS ON CHILD YOU HAVE SO BLITHELY KISSED OFF AS MINE STOP ARE YOU NOT A LITTLE ASHAMED AT YOUR AGE QUESTION MARK NEVER MIND THOUGH THESE WORDS ARE DICTATED OUT OF ENVY IN THE HOPE WHEN I REACH YOUR YEARS I SHALL BE ABLE TO ACHIEVE THE SAME STOP THE AMERICAN PRESS HAS OUTDONE ITSELF AND SOCIAL CIRCLES HERE ARE STIRRED BY THIS NEW CANDIDATE FOR THE PEERAGE STOP STILL HE LOOKS A PROPER LAD AND I AM GLAD TO HAVE HIM IN THE FAMILY STOP IF QUESTIONED I WILL CORROBORATE YOUR UNBLUSHING WHOPPER BY SAYING HE IS ONE OF MINE ON HOLIDAY IN THE U.S. STOP MARIETTE JOINS ME IN SENDING CONGRATULATIONS AND THANKS FOR A MOST PAINLESS BIRTH STOP YOURS AFFECTIONATELY DARTINGTON.

650 Park Avenue, New York 21, N.Y N.Y.

19 April

DEAR M MR B BAYSWATER,.

Well here I am at last, and hope you had no trouble getting to Washington with the Rolls and everything is going well.

I guess you are surprised what happened to little Henry. But it was not your fault, and I wish to thank you for your kindness in suggesting it. I have not written to say thanks before because there is a great deal of work to do in Mrs Schreiber's flat. The last person to live here, or whoever cleaned up, was a proper pig, or did not know anything, and what it needs is a thorough scrubbing, which we are doing.

New York is a most interesting city once you get used to the tall buildings and everyone rushing about, and they have the most wonderful cleansers in the supermarket. One is called Zip. You only put a few drops in water and it will take the paint off anything. They also have a most superior dish powder, it is called Swoosh and is better than anything we have over there. They also have a very good floor polish. It is called Swizz. You just put it on and then everything is like a skating rink. Mrs b.u.t.terfield nearly went A. over tip after I had put some on the kitchen floor and does not think much of it.

Everything is done by electricity here, but if you want to clean a house good and proper there is nothing like bucket and soap and getting down on your hands and knees, which we are doing.

I think America is very interesting, but I am working hard and sometimes wish I was back with you all having a port and lemon on the good old Ville de Paris. Ville de Paris. Have you heard from the Tidders? I had a postcard from them from Dayton, Ohio, and have written to them to keep an eye out for George Brown, little Henry's father. The Marquis says Henry is fine, but I am glad that you are there to keep an eye on him too until I come to get him. Have you heard from the Tidders? I had a postcard from them from Dayton, Ohio, and have written to them to keep an eye out for George Brown, little Henry's father. The Marquis says Henry is fine, but I am glad that you are there to keep an eye on him too until I come to get him.

Well cheerio and hoping this leaves you in the pink as it does me.

I am your friend, A. HARRIS.