The next morning Quilter-Beckett, making a report in Hogarth's _salon_, mentioned the incident, saying: "Here are the names, with the sentences; I shall send the sailors home..." and Hogarth's eyes, resting on the doc.u.ment, chanced to catch that name of Frankl.

At once he turned pale, for his first thought was: "Frankl must have been going to the wedding, in which case _Someone Else_ may be with him".

But her name was not there....

He rose and paced; and he said low: "No one else on either of the ships?"

"No, my Lord King".

Then up lifted Hogarth's brow, alight with fun, and he muttered: "All right, Caps-and-ta.s.sels".

He said aloud: "Quilter-Beckett, this Frankl I know. Did you never hear anything about Caps-and-ta.s.sels at Westring? _He_ is Caps-and-ta.s.sels.

Now tell me, which is your biggest blue-jacket?"

"Man called Young, my Lord King".

"Then, have a suit of Young's sea-clothes put upon this Frankl, and let him be brought before me in the Throne Room this morning after the Audience. He was fond of liveries...."

Accordingly, by half-past eleven Frankl entered the Throne Room, where, as soon as its rosy translucency broke upon his gaze, an "Oh!" of admiration groaned from him, in spite of his weight of misery, he not walking, but being lifted forward in successive swings by his armpits--up the first steps to the outer circle of bal.u.s.trade, forward to the second steps and the inner bal.u.s.trade, within which shone the throne, and Hogarth, crowned and large in robes, on it.

The two warders, intent upon portering Frankl, and not noticing the cap which still covered his eyebrows, one now in sudden scare whispered: "Off with your cap, you...!" on which Frankl s.n.a.t.c.hed it off, grasping through superabundant sleeves, he at the same moment a fury and a dazzled man, the throne before him incredible, like a dream which one knows to be a dream, in structure not unlike the Peac.o.c.k Throne of Akbar, its length fourteen feet, seating thirteen persons in recesses, standing on a gold platform with three concave steps set with rings of sapphire, and consisting of a central part and two wings, the wings being supported on twisted legs (one had been broken), and made of fretted ivory mosaicked with cabochon emerald, ruby, topaz, turquoise, chrysoberyl, diamond, opal, the large central part, with its recesses, being also of ivory, gold-arabesqued, its mosque-shape canopy (of Hindoo enamel-work on the outside) being supported by eleven pillars of emerald; at the top of each pillar a dolphin (hence the name "Dolphin Throne") made of turquoise, jasper, pearl, sardius, and at the bottom of each pillar a _guldusta_, or bouquet, of gems; the concave ceiling one ma.s.s of stones, representing a sea in which sailed three Dutch galleons, and seven dolphins sported.

But all that Frankl saw of it was its opulence: for his terror lest the warders should let him go occupied his mind.

And precisely the thing which he feared came upon him, for Hogarth said: "Warders, retire".

And now Frankl, all unsupported, stood in unstable equilibrium, anon stooping to his finger-tips, then straining doubtfully forward with struggling arms from a too backward poise: for not only did the trousers lie a twisted emptiness far below his feet, but the feet themselves were lost in Young's boots, so he stood like Scaramouch, a mere sack, a working of his chin wobbling down his beard, and there was a blaze in his stare which Hogarth, unfortunately, did not well estimate.

They faced each other, alone, save for the body-guard at the circ.u.mference of the room.

"Was it _you_ that sent me to Colmoor?" Hogarth suddenly asked in a low voice, stooping forward.

"_Me_!" shrieked Baruch Frankl, pointing a hanging sleeve-end to his breast: "as Jehovah is my witness--"

"Were you about to _swear_? For ever the same?--tyrant and worm? It _was_ you. Now tell it me right out: you have nothing to fear: for you cannot be vain enough to imagine that I would harbour enmity against you".

"It wasn't me, I say again, my Lord King!"--Frankl trampled a little backward, then stooped over-poised to his finger-tips: "with what motive? Oh, that's hard--to be accused. They have already given me a month--my G.o.d! a month! And only because I am a Jew. But it wasn't me--that I'll swear to G.o.d--"

Hogarth rose to his height, descended, put his hand upon Frankl's shoulder. "Well, leave that. But--_my sister_!"

His hand felt the shoulder beneath it start like fits.

"Your sister!" Frankl screamed with a face of scare: "Why, what of her now?"

"Frankl, you are frightened: you know, Frankl, _where she is_!"

"Me? O, my Good G.o.d, what is this! Me, poor sinner, know where your sister is, my Lord King? Why, spare me! spare me, G.o.d of Hosts! Why, you've only got to ask yourself the question--"

"Listen to me, Frankl", said Hogarth, bending his blazing brow low over the Jew: "I have searched for that woman through the world, and have not found her. All the time, mind you, I felt convinced that you know where she is; and you may wonder why--years ago--I did not have you seized.

I will tell you why: it was because I had a sort of instinct that G.o.d, whom I serve continually with tears and prayers, would not fail in His day to show me her face: and to-day you are here. Do you suppose, Frankl, that you will go away without telling me where she is? And in order to hurry you, listen to what I say to your warders--"

He touched a b.u.t.ton in the bal.u.s.trade, and to the warders said: "If at any time this man should demand pencil and paper, supply them, and take to your Admiral what he writes. To-day his food shall be fare from your own table; to-morrow three loaves and water; from the third day one loaf and water; till further orders".

Up shot Frankl's shivering arms, while Hogarth, training his ermines and purples, paced away.

That was on the day following the Manifesto.

XL

THE WEDDING

By the time Frankl's three loaves had become one, that amazement with which men received the Manifesto had commenced to give place to more coherent impressions.

He was not a "Monster"! that was the first realization--no pirate, nor lurid Anti-Christ, nor vainglorious Caesar! And in two days, the first astonishment over, there arose a noise in the world: for the Lord of the Sea had given to the nations one month only in which to do that thing: and the peoples took pa.s.sionately to meetings.

In England Land Leagues, Chambers of Agriculture, Restoration Leagues, Nationalization Leagues, many Leagues, were organizing furiously, stretching the right arm of oratory; deputations, pet.i.tions in wagons, demonstrations _en bloc_, party cannonades, racket heaven-high.

Sir Moses Cohen, the Jew-Liberal Leader, appealing to the strongest prejudice in Englishmen, spoke one night at Newcastle of "the interference of a foreign prince in the affairs of Britain"; used the word: "_Never!_", and on this cry secured an enormous following: so that, within a week, he was instrumental in forming the formidable League of Resistance--destined to prove so tragic for Hogarth, and for England.

It was in the midst of this world-turmoil that--on the third day--the marriage-morning of Miss Cecil Stickney dawned; and that same evening Rebekah Frankl, convalescent from influenza, was seated over a bedroom fire in Hanover Square, a cashmire round her shoulders, her sickness cured by herbs, her physician then hobbling with a stick down the stairs--Estrella of Lisbon--her back almost horizontal now with age.

And as Rebekah mused there, two newsboys below, whose shouts pursued each other, went proclaiming through November gloom as it were the day of doom, crying, even in that uproar of Europe, a private event:

MARRIAGE OF

LORD ALFRED COWERN

AND MISS CECIL STICKNEY

APPALLING TRAGEDY

And soon a girl ran in, gasping: "Miss Frankl!--this is too awful--your father--"

The news, having been flashed to Paris by Mackay-Bennett cable, now appeared in detail after the _New York Herald's_ French edition, and Rebekah's eyes ran wildly over details as to the "bevy of beauty", daughters of "the Thirty-four", and the church of waiting ladies, the carpeted path between palms and exotics, and how the ticket-holders heard the organ tell the Cantilenet Nuptiale and Bennett's Minuet; and then the mult.i.tudinous stir: behold the bridegroom cometh!--the little necessary bridegroom of no importance, and then the white entry of bride and bridal train, while the choir knelt to sing "O Perfect Love".

Perfect love, however, was hardly the order of that day, but rather perfect hate: for in Madison Square--the church being at the upper end of Fifth Avenue--a mob was being harangued on the subject of this very wedding: and when they heard and realized the thing that was being done before their eyes they were swept as by a wind of fire, and under its impulse set out like some swollen Rhone with a rushing sound to pounce upon the church, full of perfect hate: and the choir sang "O perfect love".

What happened now was described as a nightmare. The same elemental instincts of the Stone Age which had exhibited themselves in the $500-worth of food wrought in another form, but with no less savagery, in a.s.sa.s.sins as in victims: and a ma.s.sacre ensued, bride and bridegroom pa.s.sing away like bubbles, of "the Thirty-four" five only escaping. The report ended with the words: "The ringleaders have been arrested; quiet reigns through the city"; then a list of the guests, with asterisks indicating those killed.

Rebekah searched for her father's name, and when she became certain that it was not there, her lips moved in thanksgiving.

But since Frankl was not at the wedding, where, then, was Frankl? She counted the days on her fingers: he could not have been late.

Unless there had been an accident to his ship....

Her brows knit a little; she peered into the fire: and thought of the _Boodah_....