CHAPTER XII
THE EMBARRASSMENTS OF THE DUKE OF BALLYWINKLE
Mr. Frank Collins, of the Atlanta _Palladium_, trod the ties beyondKildare with a light heart, gaily swinging a suit-case. He had walkedfar, but a narrow-brim straw hat, perched on the back of his head, andthe cheery lilt of the waltz he whistled spoke for a jaunty spirit. Ashis eye ranged the landscape he marked a faint cloud of smoke risingbeyond a lonely strip of wood; and coming to a dilapidated piece oftrack that led vaguely away into the heart of the forest, he again notedthe tiny smoke-cloud. On such a day the half-gods go and the godsarrive; and the world that afternoon knew no cheerfuller spirit than the_Palladium's_ agile young commissioner. Mr. Collins was not only incapital health and spirits but he rejoiced in that delicious titillationof expectancy which is the chief compensation of the journalist's life.His mission was secret, and this in itself gave flavor to his errand;and, moreover, it promised adventures of a kind that were greatly to hisliking.
As the woodland closed in about him and the curving spur carried himfarther from the main right of way he ceased whistling and his stepsbecame more guarded. Suddenly a man rose from the bushes and leveled along arm at him detainingly.
"Stop, young man, stop where you are!"
"Hello!" called Collins, pausing. "Well, I'm jiggered if it ain't oldCookie. I say, old man, is the untaxed juice flowing in the forestprimeval or what brings you here?"
Cooke grinned as he recalled the reporter, whom he remembered as aparticularly irrepressible specimen of his genus whom he had met whilepursuing moonshiners in Georgia. The two shook hands amiably midway ofthe two streaks of rust.
"Young man, I think I told you once before that your legs werealtogether too active. I want you to light right out of here--skip!"
"Not for a million dollars. Our meeting is highly opportune, Cookie.It's not for me to fly in the face of Providence. I'm going to seewhat's doing down here."
"All right," replied Cooke. "Take it all in and enjoy yourself; butyou're my prisoner."
"Oh, that will be all right! So long as I'm with you I can't lose out."
"March!" called Cooke, dropping behind; and thus the two came in a fewminutes to the engine, the cars and the caboose. From the locomotive aslight smoke still trailed hazily upward.
Thomas Ardmore, coatless and hatless, sat on the caboose steps writingmessages on a broad pad, while a telegraph instrument clicked busilywithin. One of his men had qualified as operator and a pile of messagesat his elbow testified to Ardmore's industry. Ardmore clutched in hisleft hand a message recently caught from the wire which he re-read fromtime to time with increasing satisfaction. It had been sent from Ardsleyand ran:
I shall ride to-night on the road that leads south beyond the red bungalow, and on the bridle-path that climbs the ridge on the west, called Sunset Trail. A certain English gentleman will accompany me. It will be perfectly agreeable to me to come back alone.
G. D.
Ardmore was still writing when Cooke stood beneath him under the cabooseplatform.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Ardmore, but this is our first prisoner."
Ardmore signed a despatch and then looked up and took the pipe from hismouth. Collins lifted his hat politely.
"Ah, Mr. Ardmore, you see I have taken advantage of your exceedinglykind invitation to look you up in North Carolina."
"He was looking for you very hard when I found him, Mr. Ardmore,"interposed Cooke.
"Your appearance delights me," said Ardmore, extending his hand to thereporter. "It was nice of you to walk out here to find me. Wouldn't theyput you up at the house?"
"Well, the fact is I didn't stop there. My paper sent me in this generaldirection on business, but I had every honorable intention of making youthat visit after I finished my assignment. But Cookie here says I'marrested."
"He's a dangerous character and can't be allowed to run loose in theseparts. I'm going to tie him up," said Cooke.
"May I ask you, Mr. Collins, just what you are doing here?" inquiredArdmore.
"You may, and I'll bet a boiled goose that Cooke and I are on the samejob."
"What are you looking for?" demanded Ardmore's chief of staff.
"It's a big story if I get it, and I have every intention of gettingit," said Collins guardedly.
"Out with it!" commanded Ardmore.
"The fact is, then, that I'm looking for a person of importance."
"Go right on, please."
"And that person is the governor of North Carolina, who is mysteriouslyabsent from Raleigh. He attended the Cotton Planters' Convention in NewOrleans. He got as far as Atlanta on his way home and then disappeared.I need not say to gentlemen of your intelligence that a lost governor isripe fruit in my business, and I have reason to believe that for somepurpose of his own the governor of North Carolina is hiding in this veryneighborhood."
Cooke glanced at Ardmore for instructions, but the master of Ardsleypreferred to keep the matter in his own hands.
"So you want to find the governor of North Carolina, do you? Well youshall not be disappointed. You are too able and zealous to be wasted onjournalism. I have a feeling that you are destined to higher things.Something told me when we met in Atlanta that fate had set us apart foreach other. That was why I asked you to visit me when I really didn'tknow but that, after learning where the spoons are kept, you would skipwithout leaving your subsequent address. But now there is importantbusiness on hand and the state of North Carolina will take the libertyof borrowing you from Georgia until the peace of the Old North State isrestored. And now, Collins, I will make a disclosure that willundoubtedly startle you a good deal, but you are no longer employed bythe Atlanta _Palladium_, and your obligations to that journal must betransferred to the state in which you now stand. You came here, Collins,to look for the governor of North Carolina, and your wits and yourargus-nose for news have served you well. You have found the governor ofNorth Carolina: I am he!"
Collins had stood during this recital in the middle of the track, withhis legs wide apart, calmly fanning himself with his hat; but as Ardmoreproceeded the reporter's hand dropped to his side, and a grin that hadoverspread his face slowly yielded to a blank stare.
"Would you mind repeating those last words?"
"_I_ am the governor of North Carolina, Mr. Collins. The manner in whichI attained that high office is not important. It must suffice that I amin sole charge of the affairs of this great state, without relief fromvaluation or appraisement laws and without benefit of clergy. And wehave much to do here; mere social conversation must await an amplertime. I now appoint you publicity agent to the governor. Your businessis to keep the people fooled--all the people all the time. In otherwords, you are chief liar to the administration, a position of vastresponsibility, for which you have, if I am a judge of character, thegreatest talents. You will begin by sending out word that GovernorDangerfield has given up all other work at present but the destructionof the Appleweight gang. These stories that the governor has hiddenhimself to dodge certain duties are all punk--do you understand?--he isserving the people as he has always served them, faithfully and with thenoblest self-sacrifice. That's the sort of stuff I want you to jam intothe newspapers all over the world. And remember--my name does not appearin the business at all--neither now nor hereafter."
"But by the ghost of John C. Calhoun, don't you see that I'm losing thechance of my life in my own profession? There's a story in this thatwould put me to the top and carry me right into New York," and Collinsglanced about for his suit-case, as though meditating flight.
"Your appointment has gone into effect," said Ardmore with finality,"and if you bolt you will be caught and made to walk the plank. And sofar as your future is concerned, you shall have a newspaper of your ownanywhere you please as soon as this war is over."
The three men adjourned to the caboose where Ardmore told Collins allthat it seemed necessary for the newspaper man to know; and within halfan hour the new recruit had enter
ed thoroughly into the spirit of theadventure, though his mirth occasionally got the better of him, and hebowed his head in his hands and surrendered himself to laughter.Thereafter, until the six o'clock supper was ready, he kept the operatoroccupied. He sent to the _Palladium_ a thoroughly plausible story givingprominence to the Appleweight case and laying stress on GovernorDangerfield's vigorous personality and high sense of officialresponsibility. He sent queries to leading journals everywhere, offeringexclusive news of the rumored disappearance of North Carolina'sgovernor. His campaign of publicity for the state administration wasbroadly planned, though he was losing a great opportunity to beat theworld with a stunning story of the amazing nerve with which Ardmore, theyoung millionaire, had assumed the duties of governor of North Carolinain the unaccountable absence of Governor Dangerfield from his capital.The whole thing was almost too good to be true, and Collins put away theidea of flight only upon realizing the joyous possibilities of sharing,no matter how humbly, in the fate of an administration which wasfashioning the drollest of card houses. He did not know, and was not toknow until long afterward, just how the young master of Ardsley hadleaped into the breach; but Ardmore was an extraordinary person, whosewhims set him quite apart from other men, and while, even if he escapedbeing shot, the present enterprise would undoubtedly lead to a long termin jail, Collins had committed himself to Ardmore's cause and would befaithful to it, no matter what happened.
Ardmore took Collins more fully into his confidence during the lingeringtwilight, and the reporter made many suggestions that were of realvalue. Meanwhile Cooke's men brought three horses from the depths ofthe forest, and saddled them. Cooke entered the caboose for a finalconference with Ardmore and a last look at the maps.
"Too bad," remarked the acting governor, "that we must wait untilto-morrow night to pick up the Appleweights, but our present business ismore important. It's time to move, Cooke."
They rode off in single file on the faintest of trails through thewoods, Cooke leading and Ardmore and Collins following immediatelybehind him. The great host of summer stars thronged the sky, and themoon sent its soft effulgence across the night. They presently forded anoisy stream, and while they were seeking the trail again on the fartherside an owl hooted a thousand yards up the creek, and while the linere-formed Cooke paused and listened. Then the owl's call was repeatedfarther off and so faintly that Cooke alone heard it. He laid his handon Ardmore's rein:
"There's a foot-trail that leads along that creek, and it's very roughand difficult to follow. Half a mile from here there used to be a still,run by one of the Appleweights. We smashed it once, but no doubt theyare operating again by this time. That hoot of the owl is a warningcommon among the pickets put out by these people. Wireless telegraphyisn't in it with them. Every Appleweight within twenty miles will knowin half an hour how many there are of us and just what direction we aretaking. We must not come back here to-night. We must put up on yourplace somewhere and let them think, if they will, we are guests of yoursout for an evening ride."
"That's all right. Unless we complete this job in about two days myadministration is a fizzle," said Ardmore, as they resumed their marchthrough the forest. There was a wilder fling to the roll of the landnow, but the underbrush was better cleared, and the trail had become abridle-path that had known man's care.
"This is some of Paul's work," said Ardmore; "and if I am not very muchmistaken we are on my land now and headed straight enough for thewagon-road that leads south beyond the red bungalow. These roads in herewere planned to give variety, but I never before appreciated howcomplicated they are."
The path stretched away through the heavy forest, and they climbed to aridge that commanded a wide region that lay bathed in silver moonlight,so softly luminous that it seemed of the stuff of shadows made light.Westward, a mile distant, lay Ardsley, only a little below the level ofthe ridge and touched with a faint purple as of spring twilight.
Ardmore sat his saddle, quietly contemplating the great house thatstruck him almost for the first time as imposing. He felt, too, a littleheartache that he did not quite understand. He was not sure whether itwas the effect of the moon, or whether he was tired, or what it was,though he thought perhaps the moon had something to do with it. His ownhouse, of which he was sincerely fond, seemed mistily hung betweenheaven and earth, in the moonlight, a thing not wholly of this world;and in his depression of spirit he reflected for a moment on his ownaimless, friendless life; he knew then that he was lonely and that therewas a great void in his mind and heart and soul and he knew also thatJerry Dangerfield and not the moon was the cause of his melancholy.
"We'd better be moving," suggested Cooke.
"It's too bad to leave that picture," remarked Collins, sighing. "Had Ithe lyre of Gray I should compose an _Ode on a Distant Prospect ofArdsley Castle_, which would ultimately reach the school readers andbring me fame more enduring than brass."
"Did you say brass?" ironically scoffed Cooke.
Whereupon the _Palladium's_ late representative laughed softly andmuttered to himself,
"Proud pile, by mighty Ardmore's hand upreared!"
"Cut it out," commanded Cooke, "or I'll drop you into the ravine. Lookbelow there!"
Looking off from the ridge they saw a man and a woman riding along astrip of road from which the timber had been cut. The night was sostill, the gray light so subdued, that the two figures moved as steadilyand softly as shadow pictures on a screen.
The slow even movement of the riders was interrupted suddenly. The man,who was nearer the remote observers, had stopped and bent toward thewoman as though to snatch her rein, when her horse threw up its head andfell back on its haunches. Then the woman struck the man a blow with herriding-crop, and galloped swiftly away along the white ribbon-like road.In the perfect night-silence it was like a scene of pantomime.
"That's all right!" cried Cooke. "Come along! We'll cut into that roadat the bungalow."
They swung their horses away from the ridge and back into thebridle-path, which once more dipped sharply down into heavy timber,Cooke leading the way, and three of the best hunters known to theArdsley stables flew down the clear but winding path. The incident whichthe trio had witnessed required no interpretation: the girl's blow andflight had translated it into language explicit enough.
Ardmore thanked his German forester a thousand times for the admirablebridle-path over which they galloped, with its certain footing beneathand clean sweep from the boughs above. The blood surged hotly throughhis heart, and he was angry for the first time in his life; but his headwas cool, and the damp air of the forest flowing by tranquilized himinto a new elation of spirit. Jerry Dangerfield was the dearest andnoblest and bravest girl in the world--he knew that: and she was cleverand resourceful enough to devise means for preserving her father'sofficial and private honor; and not less quick to defend herself frominsult from a titled scoundrel. She was the most inexplicable of girls;but at the same time she was beyond any question the wisest. The thoughtthat he should now see her soon, after all the years that had passedsince he had introduced her to his sister at Raleigh, filled him withwild delight, and he prayed that in her mad flight from the Duke ofBallywinkle no harm might come to her.
The three men rode out into the broad highway at the red bungalow andpaused to listen.
"He hasn't got here yet. Only one person has passed and these must bethe tracks of the girl's horse," said Cooke, who had dismounted andstruck matches, the better to observe the faint hoof-prints in the hardshell road.
"He'll be along in a minute. Let us get into the shadow of the bungalow,and when he comes we'll ride out and nail him. The bungalow's a sort ofway house. I often stop here when I'm out on the estate and want torest, I have the key in my pocket."
As Ardmore's keys jingled in the lock Cooke cried out softly. Theirquarry was riding swiftly toward them, and he drew rein before thebungalow as Cooke and Collins rode out to meet him.
"I say," panted the duke.
"You are our
prisoner. Dismount and come into this house."
"Prisoner, you fool! I'm a guest at Ardsley and I'm looking for a lady."
"That's a very unlikely story. Collins, help the gentleman down;" andthe reporter obeyed instructions with so much zeal that the noblegentleman fell prone, and was assisted to his feet with a fine mockeryof helpfulness.
"I tell you I'm looking for a lady whose horse ran away with her! I'mthe Duke of Ballywinkle and brother-in-law to Mr. Ardmore. I'll have yousent to jail if you stop me here."
"Come along, Duke, and we'll see what you look like," said Cooke,leading the way to the bungalow veranda. Within Ardmore was lightinglamps. There was a long room finished in black oak, with a fireplace atone end, and a table in the center. The floors were covered withhandsome rugs and the walls were hung with photographs and etchings.Ardmore sat on the back of a leather settee in a pose assumed at themoment of the duke's entrance. It was a pose of entire nonchalance, andArdmore's cap, perched on the back of his head, and his brown hairrumpled boyishly, added to the general effect of comfort and ease.
The duke blinked for a moment in the lamplight, then he roared outjoyously:
"Ardy, old man!" and advanced toward his brother-in-law withoutstretched hand.
"Keep him off; he's undoubtedly quite mad," said Ardmore, staringcoldly, and bending his riding-crop across his knees. "Collins, pleaseride on after the lady and bring her back this way."
Cooke had seated the prisoner rather rudely in a chair, and the nobleduke, having lost the power of speech in amazement and fright, rubbedhis eyes and then fastened them incredulously on Ardmore; but there wasno question about it, he had been seized with violence; he had beenrepudiated by his own brother-in-law--the useless, stupid Tommy Ardmore,who, at best, had only a child's mind for pirate stories and who wasindubitably the most negligible of negligible figures in the drama oflife as the duke knew it.
"Cooke," began Ardmore, addressing his lieutenant gravely from his perchon the settee, "what is the charge against this person?"
"He says he's a duke," grinned Cooke, taking his cue from Ardmore'smanner. "And he says he's visiting at Ardsley."
"That," said Ardmore with decision, "is creditable only to thegentleman's romantic imagination. His face is anything but dukely, andthere's a red streak across it which points clearly to the recent sharpblow of a weapon; and no one would ever strike a duke. It's utterlyincredible," and Ardmore lifted his brows and leaned back with his armsat length and his hands clasping the riding-crop, as he contemplatedwith supreme satisfaction the tell-tale red line across the duke'scheek.
The Duke of Ballywinkle leaped to his feet, the color that suffused hispale face hiding for the moment the mark of the riding-stick.
"What the devil is this joke, Ardy?" screamed the duke. "You know I'm aguest at your house; you know I'm your sister's husband. I was ridingwith Miss Dangerfield and her horse ran away with her, and she may cometo harm unless I go after her. This cut on the face I got from a lowlimb of one of your infernal trees. You are putting me in a devil of anembarrassing position by holding me here."
He spoke with dignity, and Ardmore heard him through in silence; butwhen he had finished, the master of Ardsley pointed to the chair.
"As I understand you, you are pleading not guilty; and you pretend tosome acquaintance with me; but I am unable to recall you. We may havemet somewhere, sometime, but I really don't know you. The title to whichyou pretend is unfamiliar to me; but I will frankly disclose to you thatI, sir, am the governor of North Carolina."
"The what?" bleated the duke, his eyes bulging.
"I repeat, that I am the governor of North Carolina, and as a state ofwar now exists in my unhappy kingdom, I, sir, have assumed all thepowers conferred upon the three coordinate branches of government underthe American system, namely, or if you prefer it, I will say, to wit:the legislative, the executive and the judicial. It is thus not only myprivilege but my painful duty to pass upon your case in all its sadaspects. As I have already suspended the writ of habeas corpus and setaside the right to trial by jury we will consider that I sit here as thesupreme court."
"For God's sake, Ardy--" howled the duke.
"That remark I will not now construe as profanity, but don't let itoccur again. The first charge against you is that of insulting a womanon the Sunset Trail in the estate called Ardsley, owned by a personknown in law as Thomas Ardmore. There are three witnesses to the factthat you tried to stop a woman in the road, and that streak on your faceis even more conclusive. Are you guilty or not guilty?"
"You are mad! You are crazy!" shouted the duke; but his face was verywhite now, and the mark of the crop flamed scarlet.
"You are guilty, beyond any question. But the further charge againstyou that you pretend to be--what did he say his name was, Cooke?--thatyou pretend to be the Duke of Ballywinkle must now be considered. Thatis quite right, is it; you say you are the Duke?"
"Yes; you fool!" howled the duke. "I'll have the law on you for this!I'll appeal to the British ambassador."
"I advise you not to appeal to anybody," said Ardmore, "and the Britishambassador is without jurisdiction in North Carolina. You have yourselfasserted that you are the Duke of Ballywinkle. Why Ballywinkle? Why notArgyll; why not Westminster? Why not, if duke you must be, the nobleDuke of York?"
The Duke of Ballywinkle sat staring, stupefied. The whole thing was oneof his silly brother-in-law's stupid jokes; there was no question ofthat; and Tommy Ardmore was always a bore; but in spite of the comforthe derived from these reflections the duke was not a little uneasy; forhe had never seen his brother-in-law in just this mood, and he did notlike it. Ardmore was carrying the joke too far; and there was anassurance in Ardmore's tone, and a light in Ardmore's eyes that wereominous. Cooke had meanwhile lighted his pipe and was calmly smokinguntil his chief should have his fling.
Ardmore now drew from his pocket Johnston's _American Politics_ with anair of greatest seriousness.
"Cooke," he said, half to himself as he turned the pages, "do youremember just what the constitution says about dukes? Oh, yes; here weare! Now, Mr. Duke of Ballywinkle, listen to what it says here inSection IX of the Constitution of the United States, which reads exactlyas follows in this book: 'No title of nobility shall be granted by theUnited States: And no person holding any office of profit or trust underthem, shall, without the consent of the Congress, accept of any present,emolument, office, or title, of any kind whatever, from any king,prince, or foreign state.' And it says in Section X that 'No state shallgrant any title of nobility.' Now, Mr. Ballywinkle, it is perfectlyclear that this government can't recognize anything that it can'tcreate, for that would be foolish. As I, the governor of North Carolina,can't make a duke, I can't see one. You are therefore wholly illegal;it's against the most sacred law of the land for you to be here at all;and, painful though it is to me, it is nevertheless my duty to order youto leave the United States at once, never to return. In fact, if youever appear in the United States again, I hereby order that you behanged by the neck until you be dead. One of Mr. Cooke's men willaccompany you to New York to-morrow and see to it that you take passageon a steamer bound for a British port. The crime of having insulted awoman will still hang over you until you are well east of Sandy Hook,and I advise you not to risk being tried on that charge in NorthCarolina, as my people are very impulsive and emotional and lynchingsare not infrequent in our midst. You shall spend to-night in my officialcaboose some distance from here, and your personal effects will bebrought from Ardsley, where, you have said, you are a guest of Mr.Thomas Ardmore, who is officially unknown to me. The supreme court willnow adjourn."
Cooke pulled the limp, bewildered duke to his feet, and dragged him fromthe bungalow.
As they stepped out on the veranda Collins rode up in alarm.
"I followed this road to a cross-road where it becomes a bridle-path andruns off into the forest. There I lost all trace of the lady, but hereis her riding-crop."
"Cooke, take your prisone
r to the caboose; and Collins, come with me,"commanded Ardmore; and a moment later he and the reporter rode offfuriously in search of Jerry Dangerfield.