"There are no miracles, Highness: only the results of higher knowledge than that which they who see them possess. That is why what I did seemed like miracles to those who watched. But this Franklin Marmion, as he is called in this life, has attained to a higher knowledge than mine, wherefore I am able only to understand imperfectly, but not myself to do, that which he does. Yet, as the High G.o.ds live, he did this thing; and to do it he must have pa.s.sed to the higher life through the gate of the Perfect Knowledge."

"In other words," said the Prince, after a big gulp of his brandy-and-soda, "that he has solved that infernal problem of the fourth dimension you have had so much to say about. Now, granted that he has done so, what does it amount to as regards our world--the world of practical thought and real action, I mean?"

"All thought is practical, Highness," replied Phadrig, "since there can be no action which is intelligent without thought. Wherefore, the higher the thought the more potent the action, and so he who has the Perfect Knowledge has also the Perfect Power."

"Then, do you mean to tell me seriously--and I can hardly think that you would trifle with me--that this man is now practically omnipotent, as far as we lower beings, as you seem to call us, are concerned?"

"Only the High G.o.ds are omnipotent, Your Excellency; but, if I have seen rightly, he is as a G.o.d to us of the lower life, and therefore I would pray you again to utterly relinquish your lately and, as I have dared for your sake to say, rashly-formed designs to make the Queen who was, and his daughter that is, the sharer of your future throne. Is not the Princess Hermia n.o.ble and fair enough?"

"No, by all your G.o.ds, no!" exclaimed the Prince pa.s.sionately. "Since I have seen the woman who, as you say, was once Queen of Egypt, there is, and shall be, no other consort for me. And who are you to advise me thus? Are you still the same man who made the condition that, if you used your arts, whatever they may be, to place her in my power, she should be, not only my Empress, but also Queen of Egypt? What has changed you? What has made you faithless to the promise that you gave me in exchange for mine? If you have forgotten that, do not also forget that we Russians have a short way with traitors."

"What has changed me, Highness," replied Phadrig, ignoring the threat, "is the knowledge that I have gained to-night. Though you believe me or not, the debt which I owe you makes it my duty to warn you. The matter stands thus: Nitocris, the daughter of Franklin Marmion, was the Queen.

For all I know, she also may have attained to the higher life, and is therefore the Queen still, though that is a mystery beyond my comprehension; but I do know now that her father has attained to it, and that for this reason, unless you put this new-found love out of your heart, you will bring yourself within the sphere of this man's power--a power mighty enough to wreck every scheme you have ever shaped, and to doom you to a fate more horrible than mortal brain could conceive. You would be as a man who strove against a G.o.d."

"You may believe what you are saying, Phadrig, and I dare say you do,"

exclaimed the Prince again. "I don't, because I can't; but even if I did, I would claim your promise. I love this Nitocris, Queen or woman, and neither man nor G.o.d shall keep her from me, willing or unwilling. As for the Princess Hermia--well, her husband is not dead yet."

"Better he dead and his widow your wife, as was planned, Highness, than that you should dare the power of one who has attained to the Perfect Knowledge," said the Egyptian, with all the earnestness of absolute conviction. "But my duty is done. I have warned you of that which you cannot see for yourself. I have done it to my own sorrow and the destroying of my own dream; but my promise is given, and I will keep it, even to a fate that may be worse than death."

The Prince drained his gla.s.s and laughed.

"Well said, my ages-old adept, as you think you are! You shall follow me, for I will go on now even to death, or what there may be worse behind it, if I can only take my beautiful Queen with me. Yes, I swear I will, by G.o.d--if there is one!"

So by his ignorant blasphemy Oscar Oscarovitch, who once was Lord of War in Egypt, for the love of the same woman, fixed his fate for this life, and for many that were to come after it.

CHAPTER XVI

THE MYSTERY OF PRINCE ZASTROW

Events now began to move with an almost bewildering rapidity, at least, so far as they affected the immediate temporal concerns of Nitocris and her father. For days and weeks a furious storm raged round the famous lecture, and the atmosphere of the scientific world was thick with figures and formulae, diagrams and disquisitions; but since none of the learned disputators proved himself capable of detecting the slightest flaw in the lecturer's mathematics, it had very little interest for him, and therefore has none for us. In fact, so little did he seem concerned with the tempest he had raised, that a few days later, to the astonishment and chagrin of his baffled critics, he and Nitocris bade adieu to their more intimate friends and disappeared on a wandering trip of undetermined destination for change of air and scene and a much-needed holiday for the over-worked Professor. At least, that is the reason which Nitocris gave to Lord Leighton and the Van Huysmans, and the few others to whom she thought it necessary to give any explanation at all.

The day before they left, Merrill lunched at "The Wilderness," took a fitting leave of his lady-love and his prospective father-in-law, and departed to join his ship, slightly mystified, perhaps, by recent happenings, but still believing himself with sufficient reason to be the happiest and most fortunate Lieutenant-Commander in the British Navy.

The true reasons for the sudden departure of the now more than ever famous Professor and his beautiful daughter from the scene of his latest and most marvellous triumph may be set forth as follows:

On the evening of the third day after the lecture Franklin Marmion was going back by train to Wimbledon after a long day at the British Museum among the relics of Egyptian antiquity--which, as may well be understood, he studied now with an interest of which no other man living could have been capable; and as soon as he was seated in a comfortable corner, and had his pipe going, he opened his _Pall Mall Gazette_, and, as was his wont on such occasions, began with the leading article and read straight along through the Special Article and the Occ. Notes, until he came to the news of the day, skipping only the financial news and quotations, which, under his present changed conditions of existence, he dare not trust himself to read lest he might be tempted by the unrighteousness of Mammon, a form of idolatry which he had always heartily despised.

The first item on the news page was headed in bold type:

~"MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A RULING GERMAN PRINCE.

"SUSPICION OF FOUL PLAY.

"IMPORTANT STATE PAPERS VANISH WITH HIM.--SPECIAL.~

"In spite of the most rigorous censorship of the Press Bureau, it has now become a matter of practical certainty that Prince Emil Rudolf von Zastrow, the youthful and very capable ruler of Boravia, who, during the last two or three years, has become one of the most brilliant figures in European society, has disappeared under circ.u.mstances so strangely mysterious as to suggest some a.n.a.logy with the tragedy of which the unhappy Prince Alexander of Bulgaria was the central figure.

"The facts, so far as they have been ascertained, are briefly as follows:--Up to about a fortnight ago, the Prince was living in semi-retirement with his consort, the Princess Hermia, in his picturesque Castle of Trelitz, which, as every one knows, looks down over the waters of the Baltic from a solitary eminence of rock which rises out of the vast forests that cover the rolling plains for leagues on the landward sides. It will be remembered that every year since his accession, the Prince has been wont to retire to this famous hunting-ground of his to enjoy at once the pleasures of the chase and the society of his beautiful young consort in peace and solitude after the whirl of the European winter season. As far as is known, the only guests at the Castle were the Count Ulik von Kessner, High Chamberlain of Boravia, who is believed to have been present on business of State, and Captain Alexis Vollmar, of the 55th Caucasus Regiment, at present attached to the Imperial Headquarter Staff at St Petersburg. Captain Vollmar, in addition to being a brilliant young officer, is also a scion of two of the wealthiest and most aristocratic families in Russia.

"It is now fully established that on the evening of the 6th of this month--that is to say, nearly three weeks ago--the Prince and his two guests returned after a long day in the forest, and that the Prince retired to rest very shortly before supper. From that day to this he has never been seen, either at home or in society. What makes the disappearance more strangely striking is the fact that the Prince, who is Colonel of the 28th Pommeranian Regiment, did not put in an appearance at the recent review in the Kaiserhof when the German Emperor held his usual inspection. Although it was obvious that His Majesty was both puzzled and annoyed by his absence, no official explanation of it has been given, and all information on the subject is rigidly withheld. Our own comes from a personal friend, and, as far as it goes, may be absolutely relied upon."

For some reason or other, which, after his recent experiences, he thought it would be as well not to try and fathom for the present, these few paragraphs made a strangely persistent impression on him. When he got home he gave his evening papers as usual to his daughter, and at dinner the Zastrow mystery was the chief, in fact almost the only, topic of conversation.

"Yes, it certainly is very extraordinary," said Nitocris. "The papers make mysteries enough out of the disappearance, of the most everyday, insignificant persons, who were probably only running away from their debts or their domestic troubles, but for a real Prince to utterly vanish like this--that certainly looks like a little more than an ordinary mystery. And I suppose," she went on, after a little interval of silence, "if there really has been foul play--I mean, granted that Prince Charming, as all the Society papers got to call him, has been spirited away for some hidden reason of State or politics and is never intended to see the light of day again, who knows how many secrets may be connected with this affair which might be like matches in a powder magazine? And--Oh yes--why, Dad, it was this same Prince Zastrow who has been mentioned by most of the best European papers as the only possible Elective Tsar of Russia if the Romanoffs are driven out by the Revolution, and the people go back to the old Const.i.tution. In fact, some of them went so far as to say that nothing but his selection could prevent a scramble for the fragments of Russia which could only end in general conflagration."

"Yes, of course I do," replied her father. "But what an atrocious shame, if it is so! One of the most popular of the minor princes of Europe spirited away, and perhaps either murdered or thrown into some prison or fortress, where he will drag out his days and nights in solitude until he goes mad: a young, bright, promising life ruined, just because he happens to stand in the way of some unscrupulous ambition, or vile political intrigue!

"It would be a crime of the very first magnitude, that is to say, of the most villainous description, and all the more horrible because it would be committed by people in the highest of places. Really, Niti, it is enough to make one think that there ought to be some higher power in the world capable of making these political crimes impossible. The inner history of European politics--I mean, the history that doesn't get into books or newspapers--would, I am certain, prove that quite half the wars of the world, at least during the period of what we are pleased to call civilisation, would have been avoided if some means could have been found of putting an end to the miserable personal ambitions and jealousies which have never anything to do with the welfare of nations, but quite the reverse. I shouldn't wonder if poor Prince Zastrow has been the victim of something of the sort. It is quite possible that expiring Tsardom had a finger in the pie. At any rate, there was a Russian officer in the Castle the day he disappeared. I should very much like to see the sort of explanation _he_ could give of the affair, if he chose."

"But is there not such a power in the world now, Dad?" asked Nitocris, looking across the table at him with a peculiar smile.

He looked back in silence for a moment or two. Then he replied slowly:

"I see what you mean, Niti. Of course, I suppose we shall be able to read each other's thoughts now, or even converse without speaking, or when we are out of earshot of each other. The same idea came to me while I was reading the account of this affair in the train; but should I, or, rather we, be doing right in interfering actively in the transactions, political and otherwise, of the world--by which I mean, of course, the state of three dimensions? It would be a terrific responsibility.

Remember what tremendous powers we are capable of wielding by simply--it is so very simple now--simply transferring our personalities to the higher plane. What if we were to do wrong? We might involve the whole world in some unspeakable catastrophe."

"And which do _you_ consider to be the greatest catastrophe, or, perhaps I ought rather to say the greatest evil, that has ever afflicted the world, Dad?" she asked, with just a suspicion of a smile in her eyes, though her lips were perfectly serious.

"Oh, war, of course!" he replied, with his usual emphasis when he got on to that topic. "What was I saying only just now about personal intrigues and ambitions that make war? What have I always thought about war? It is the most appalling curse----"

"Then, Dad," she interrupted in her sweetest tones, "do you think that, supposing we possess these wonderful powers, they could be better used than in preventing any war which may possibly arise out of this disappearance of Prince Zastrow, and so convincing those who are wicked enough to plunge the human race into blood and misery that henceforth all wars of aggression and ambition will be impossible?"

"Yes, you are right as usual, Niti," he exclaimed, getting up. "Now you go and think about it all, and give me your advice in the morning. I want to get away now and work out an intelligible solution of those three problems--if I can make it so--for the benefit of Van Huysman and the rest of my respected critics. When I've done that, we'll be off to the Continent or somewhere----"

"And see what we can make of the Zastrow Mystery, perhaps!" said Nitocris. "Good-night, Dad. I want to do some thinking, too."

He went to his study and set to work upon a development of the demonstrations with which he had astounded not only London, but the whole civilised world.

But it was no good to-night. The ideas would not come. Over and over again he picked up the threads of his arguments, only to drop them again. At last, in something like wondering despair, he muttered:

"Confound the thing! I almost had it last night, and now I seem as far away from it as ever. What on earth can be the matter with me?"

He put his elbows on the table, took his head between his hands, and stared down at the pages covered with angles and circles, chords and curves, and wildernesses of symbols, which were scattered about his desk. As he stared at them they seemed somehow to come together, and the lines and curves arranged themselves in symmetrical shapes, until they developed from diagrams into pictures; and as they did so he found himself forgetting all about the problems, and thinking only of the strange vision which seemed to be unfolding itself among the scattered papers before him. The straight lines became the walls and turrets of one of those two-or three-hundred-year-old German country houses, half castle, half mansion, which every explorer of the bye-paths of the Fatherland has seen and admired so often. The curves became long, sweeping stretches of sandy bays, fringed with other curves of breaking rollers; and as the picture grew more distinct, one great circle embraced a whole perfect picture of land and seascape--land dusky and forest-covered in the southward half; and the misty sea, island-dotted, wind-whipped, and foam-flecked, to the northward.

The castle stood on the top of a somewhat steeply sloping hill about five hundred feet above the sandy sh.o.r.e, on which the breakers were curling a couple of miles away. The hill was covered with thick-growing firs from the plain to the castle wall, but two broad avenues ran in straight lines, one to seaward, and the other down into the depths of the vast forest, until it opened on to the post road, which afforded the only practicable carriage route to the station of Trelitz on the main Berlin-Konigsberg Railway.

The longer he looked, the more surprisingly distinct the picture became, and, curiously enough, the less his wonder grew. He saw three men on horseback riding at a canter up the avenue from the forest. Their costumes showed plainly enough that they had just come back from the chase. As they rode on they seemed to come quite close to him, until he could see their features with perfect distinctness. By the changing expression of their faces he could tell they were laughing and chatting; but, singularly enough, he could not hear a word that they were saying, which, considering the minuteness with which he saw everything, struck him as being distinctly curious.

He watched them ride up to the old Gothic gateway in the wall which ran round the castle, suiting itself to the irregularities of the hill. They crossed the courtyard and dismounted. The grooms led their horses away, and, as the big double doors opened, they went in, one of them, standing aside for the younger of his companions but entering before the other.

In the great hall whose walls were adorned with horns and heads and tusks, and whose floor was almost completely carpeted with skins, they gave their weapons to a couple of footmen; and as they did so he saw the slim and yet stately figure of a woman coming down the winding stair which led into the hall from a broad gallery running round it. As she reached the bottom of the stairway she threw her head back a little, and held out both her hands towards the man who had come in second. As the light of a great swinging lamp above the stairway fell upon her upturned face, he recognised the Countess Hermia von Zastrow, the reigning European beauty whose portrait in the ill.u.s.trated papers, and in the great photographer's windows, was almost as familiar as that of Queen Alexandra.

The Count--for the handsome young hunter who now took her hands could now be no other than the Prince of Boravia-Trelitz--raised her right hand in courtly fashion to his lips. The other two bowed low before her, and then she led the way up the stairs.